


a vanilla sort of vice

by situational_irony_13



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery & Mafia AU, Comedy, Everyone Loves Kageyama Tobio, Feat. a business administration degree, Fluff, Gen, Hinata and Kageyama being Chaotic™, Humor, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals but mafia, Mafia AU, Multi, Osamu & Kiyoko are best buds, T for swearing and references to blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/situational_irony_13/pseuds/situational_irony_13
Summary: "Sometimes, they all collectively forgot that their small business was technically subsidized by the mafia."A bakery, home to one baking prodigy and his dynamic partner. Regular patrons include: not one but two mafia enforcers, the heads of the Black Jackals, and members of not one but two allied organizations.A story of pain, if by pain you mean bread.A story of love, if by love you mean something awkward, fumbling, and ultimately sweet as pie.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro & Iwaizumi Hajime & Matsukawa Issei & Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime & Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio & Miya Atsumu, Kageyama Tobio & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kageyama Tobio & Shimizu Kiyoko, Kageyama Tobio & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu & Shimizu Kiyoko
Comments: 61
Kudos: 261





	1. rosemary-tinted lenses

**Author's Note:**

> If you caught the reference to the french word for bread, you are automatically my best friend.
> 
> If you didn't you must be really confused right about now. My bad, that's on me.
> 
> Welcome to my darling beta's second requested oikage fic. Alternative names for this fic include: 'Bake it till you make it', 'bake the system', and 'for Christ's bake'. 
> 
> A little info for the fic: In this fic, Kiyoko is Kageyama's older cousin, and they're each the only family they have left. Why? No one knows. But it's just *background knowledge*. 
> 
> Writing the Miya Twins' accent really took a lot out of me. At one point, my beta @queentheband and I were just indexing Sakuatsu fics for the appropriate Kansai-ben contraction for 'you've'. We didn't find it. 
> 
> Also, this is an oikage fic. However, Oikawa is not introduced as a character in the first chapter. I recognize that, and apologize. Let's just treat this as a prologue, and move on. There's still plenty of fluff involved to satisfy (I hope).

_ 6 months ago:  _

Shimizu Kiyoko stared down at the degree in her hands, as the graduation ceremony dispersed around her. The new graduates milled around with family and friends on the green, and from where she sat, she watched hugs and congratulations being exchanged.

“Missin’ yer family, Kiyoko-san?” Miya Osamu looked down at her, graduation certificate clutched in one hand. Kiyoka raised a hand to cover the glare from the sun, dropping it with a calm smile once she saw who it was.

“Tobio offered to come. I told him not to.”

Osamu dropped down onto the grass next to her, abandoning his certificate on the grass to drape a lazy arm across his face. Kiyoko mimicked his motions, and the two of them laid side-by-side watching the puffy white clouds drift across the sky.

“Aw, I woulda loved to meet yer kid cousin.”

Kiyoko smiled softly, almost nostalgic. “He’s not nearly as sociable as you seem to think,” she said softly. “But he’s definitely a softy inside. He’d like you, I think.”

The two laid in companionable silence for a while, long enough for most of the crowd to disperse and head back inside to the entrance hall or the mess. A couple stragglers remained when Osamu rolled over to face Kiyoko, who stayed looking up in the sky.

“So, what’s next for ya, Kiyoko-san?”

Kiyoko sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “It was always my plan to open a bakery. I want to run a business, and it’s my best way of keeping Tobio with me, at least for a little while. The first step was getting a business administration degree.” Kiyoko paused to wave her certificate in the air.

“I guess the next thing to do is to secure a bunch of loans,” she finished. “What about you, Miya-san?”

“...goin’ into the family business, I think,” Osamu answered after an awkward pause.

Kiyoko turned over to face Osamu, interest piqued. “What does your family do?”

“Odds an’ ends,” he explained shortly, running a hand through his hair. “We got a foot in a lotta camps.”

Kiyoko hummed, recognizing an evasive answer when she heard one. She sat up, brushing any dirt from her skirt as she pulled herself to her feet. “Well, good luck to the both of us then, Miya-san.” Osamu snorted, also sitting up though not climbing to his feet. “What do ye need luck for, Kiyoko-san? Ye’ve got talent.” 

“One cannot put talent down as collateral on a loan, Miya-san.” Though uttered flippantly, Kiyoko paused in brushing nonexistent dirt from her skirt, hand twitching just slightly. Osamu waited, wondering if she’d say anything more. The silence stretched just slightly too long for comfort, and Osamu almost began to fidget. 

“It’s one thing to say Tobio is all that I have,” Kiyoko began. “But the converse of that statement is much more important. I’m all Tobio has.”

Osamu stays silent, his breath practically bated. Kiyoko didn’t share a lot about her personal life; he could count everything he knew about her on one hand and they’d known each other for three years. 

“Getting a loan from a bank is a...complicated process. I’d have to provide collateral, prove I can pay it back. I’d need to put practically all of my salary into paying the loan back for the first couple years.” Kiyoko looked away quickly, though Osamu didn’t think she was anywhere near crying. 

“I just need to be able to juggle quite a few things. And my first priority, obviously, is making sure Tobio graduates from culinary school.” At Osamu’s glance of askance, Kiyoko continued. “He got in on scholarship. All expenses paid.” She couldn’t keep the note of pride from her voice. “He’s incredible.”

“Still,” she returned, the levity in the conversation fleeting. “I can’t help but be a little afraid. I need to be there with him,  _ for  _ him. But I also want to help us both accomplish our dreams.”

Osamu levied a considering look up at her. He was fully unsure of whether this was a good idea, or if he was even  _ allowed  _ to do this. It was a  _ family business. _ Shouldn’t he consult…?

In that exact moment, Osamu’s mind played for him a  _ Greatest Hits  _ reel. Specifically,  _ ‘Tsumu Being an Asshat _ . A consultation with Atsumu would result in a  _ loss  _ of critical-thinking ability. Also, he just didn’t want to give the jerk an opinion. 

Kiyoko, who had begun to walk away with a soft backwards wave, was halted by his voice.

“Kiyoko-san!” Osamu shouted, leaping to his feet and running the five-or-so feet she’d covered in the past thirty seconds. “How would ya feel if I made you a proposition?” Kiyoko’s eyes widened, and he rushed to clarify. “A  _ business _ proposition. I think we could come to a mutually beneficial solution to your problem.”

Kiyoko cocked her head to the side, calculating in her stare. “I need money,” she finally said. “There’s nothing about that that you can help with or that would be beneficial for you.” Osamu laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I could definitely help with that, unfortunately enough.” 

When Kiyoko maintained her cautious gaze, Osamu continued. “And as for how it would be beneficial for me, that’s actually an even longer explanation.”

“Look, Miya-san, I appreciate you trying to help in some capacity, but if you could help me with this we wouldn’t have eaten microwave ramen for all three meals of the day for the past  _ two months. _ We’re both broke college students.” She said this with little room for argument, and Osamu felt himself let out another awkward laugh.

“...I’m kinda not.” Kiyoko looked at him evenly, and he couldn’t decipher her expression. She stared at him long enough for him to get  _ really  _ uncomfortable, and he looked away from her, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Wouldja please stop looking at me like that?” he finally asked, his nervousness bubbling over. 

“Sorry, Miya-san. I’m just trying to understand if finals week got to you, mentally, or if you’re telling the truth.” Before he could open his mouth to protest, Kiyoko added on, “And if you’re telling the truth  _ now _ , I’m trying to decide if I can trust you.”

The two lapsed into silence, but this time Osamu faced Kiyoko’s gaze head-on. After about thirty seconds, Kiyoko sat back down on the lawn, patting the space next to her. 

“Why don’t you try to give me all of these long, complicated explanations. Then, I can figure out if I should press my panic button.” When the color drained from Osamu’s face, Kiyoko laughed. “I’m mostly kidding, Miya-san.” 

Osamu took a deep breath. Then, without preamble, he asked:

“Have you ever heard of the MSBY Black Jackals?”

Kiyoko’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard tell, mostly from small-businesses in the city.” At Osamu’s gesture, Kiyoko continued. “I’ve heard a lot of things. The most outlandish, of course, being that it’s basically the mafia.” Kiyoko chuckled softly to herself. “I always assumed it was some sort of business advisory, maybe a financial consulting service?” Osamu looked away, hand permanently buried in his hair at this point.

“No, it’s the mafia.” 

Kiyoko stared. Osamu was beginning to sweat profusely. 

Kiyoko suddenly smacked a palm to her face. “Tobio told me to bring a panic button to university. I should’ve listened to him.”

“Okay but, if it makes you feel any better, we don’t traffic,” Osamu tried. 

“ _ Humans? _ ” Kiyoko exclaimed, eyes wider than before. Osamu groaned internally. This wasn’t quite how he was hoping this conversation would go. He nodded, and pretended not to notice her silently scooting farther away from him on the grass. 

“Look, I’ll get straight to the point. The Black Jackals invest in startups that we think have significant potential. So, I can provide ya with funds.” 

Kiyoko continued to stare, and Osamu waited for her response.

“So, you’re part of the mafia?” Kiyoko finally said. Osamu dropped his head with a groan, before giving an aborted nod. Kiyoko hummed again, cocking her head to the side. “Who decides if my business has potential?”

Osamu’s head shot up, his eyes seeking her gaze. She seemed more curious than outright horrified, so he decided to respond eloquently:

“Huh?”

Kiyoko smiled softly. “Who decides if my business has potential? You need to get approval from someone right? It can’t just be you, with an undergraduate degree in business administration?” 

Osamu let out an aggravated breath. How did that dumbass manage to worm his way into every conversation, even in absentia? Damn you, ‘Tsumu. “It’s not just me. There’s two other people I need approval from, technically.” Kiyoko smirked at the clear distaste in his tone.

“Don’t like your bosses?” she asked, curiosity still evident in her tone. 

“Well, one of ‘em is about the most competent men I’ve ever met. The other is a fuckin’ dumbass who doesn’t deserve the air he breathes.”

“Oh, brilliant,” she said softly. “Well, let me know what they decide,” she finally said, standing back up and brushing any new dirt off her skirt. 

“Huh?” Osamu said, still brilliantly eloquent.

“I’m in, Miya-san. I’ll bring Tobio along to our next meeting, so you can finally meet him.” Osamu watched her walk away, dumbstruck. 

“See you around, Miya-san,” she threw out with a wave. Osamu waved at her retreating figure until she turned the corner. He sat in a sort of stunned silence for a couple moments, before his phone began to let out a tell-tale whine. 

“Oi, ‘Samu. Ya fuckin’ graduate yet?” 

“Comin’ from you, ya uneducated scrub.” He heard Atsumu begin to complain in the background as the phone was clearly plucked from his hands.

“He means congratulations, Miya-san,” a distinctly deeper tone asserted calmly. Sometimes Osamu wondered how a person like Sakusa Kiyoomi was attracted to the shitface of a brother he had. As if on cue, Osamu heard Atsumu’s voice again in the background, whining about how ‘Omi-kun, I told you, Miya-san is so  _ weird _ , just call him ‘Samu.’

“So, Osamu,” Sakusa continued. “Have you decided on any lucrative opportunities for the Jackals? I know you were mentioning the opportunities presented by restaurants in the area.”

Osamu looked in the direction that Kiyoko had disappeared in, weighing the decision in his mind.

“Actually, Sakusa-san, I have a couple ideas. How do you feel about bakeries?”

* * *

Osamu missed having Kiyoko to help him decipher financial statements. The two of them mutually kept each other going through mounds of business school homework. 

Having real-life homework fuckin’ sucked. But the more relevant reason as to why he couldn’t just call Kiyoko and ask for her help was because he was staring at  _ her _ financial statements. She’d emailed him a well-organized portfolio filled with her business plan, earnings projections, financial statements- basically everything he needed. 

Sakusa-san had helped him go through the information two nights prior, expressing just the mildest admiration for Kiyoko’s thoroughness. ‘Tsumu had just kicked his feet up on the breakfast bar, alternating between throwing popcorn at Osamu’s head and distracting Sakusa-san. 

Osamu felt the urge to click his tongue in annoyance just recalling the incident. Still, Sakusa-san’s steadfast ability to ignore ‘Tsumu left him a little in awe. 

Osamu checked his watch, leaning back in his chair. He was sitting at the head of a table in Conference Room A of the Jackals’ business front building. He tried to tamp down on his jitters, his knee jiggling up and down in spite of himself. 

It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about being _ nervous _ , though that was also a factor. It’s what he was nervous  _ for _ . He kept sending cautious glances at the door to the room, worried Tsumu was going to just fuckin’ appear in the entryway through their ‘psychic connection’, or whatever shit. 

In his defense, Osamu had been waiting to meet Tobio-kun for a couple years now. Kiyoko had promised to bring him along for this meeting. He’d accidentally let it slip to Sakusa-san the night before, and the look he’d received had been so dry and judgemental Osamu had seen his life flash before his eyes. Then, just as he contemplated shattering a window and leaping out, Sakusa-san’s lips had quirked upward in a sort of smirk. 

“Sometimes you’re both so odd in similar ways,” he commented tritely. Again, as if on cue, Atsumu had walked in and they both began to retch obnoxiously loud at the comparison. 

Osamu continued to tap a pen against the conference room table, scanning Kiyoko’s documents once more. Luckily, based on their appraisal of Kiyoko’s skill and the copious amounts of information she had provided, this meeting should be a considerably lighthearted one. The only point of consternation was finally explaining to Kiyoko what it meant to be subsidized by the Jackals. 

Eh. It would probably be fine. After all, if Kiyoko wasn’t up for something batshit-crazy, they wouldn’t have made it to this point. 

Osamu was interrupted from his thought process by light rapping on the door. He looked up to see Kiyoko in a blouse and slacks, followed closely by a severe-looking boy in sweatpants and an apron. 

“Nice to see you again, Miya-san,” she remarked calmly as Osamu stood up to pull her into a quick hug. He looked past her at who he strongly suspected to be Tobio-kun. Still, he waited for the boy to introduce himself. 

“Nice to meet you, Miya-san. My name is Kageyama Tobio. I’ve heard a lot about you from Kiyoko.”

“And I really did try to wrestle him into professional clothing, but he escaped to the kitchen almost immediately, tweaking some recipe until we were almost late.” She cut a look toward him, and he at least had the good sense to look a little ashamed. 

Osamu smiled indulgently. “Let’s get down to business then, if it’s all right with yer cousin.” When Kageyama went slightly pink at the attention and nodded, Osamu opened his folder, pulling out an envelope.

“This is the first of a series of cheques yer gonna receive, for yer startup costs.” Kiyoko turned to look at him quickly, eyes wide. A glance at Kageyama revealed eyes as wide as saucers. 

“We also scouted out a couple places, for ya to use as a storefront.” Osamu slid multiple photos across the table along with the envelope. But as Kiyoko reached for the many pieces of paper, Osamu stopped her with a look.

“There’s still a large ‘but’.”

Both Kiyoko and Kageyama were looking him full in the eye now, it was almost unnerving. Osamu dimly recognized that both of them were exactly intense enough to be associated with the mafia, at least when they tried to be. 

“This won’t exactly be normal. Most of yer customers will be Jackals, or residents under the protection of the Jackals. Yer pool of customers’ll be limited, ‘cuz ya can’t serve rival mafia members. Yer gonna have to pay a tax to the Jackals, for protection.”

Kiyoko and Kageyama had little to no reaction. 

“Ya might see some violence. Ya might get some rowdy customers. But, the Jackals will back yer plays, back ya under most any circumstance.” 

Kiyoko turned to look at Kageyama and Osamu shifted his gaze to look at the boy too. He was taken aback by the small nostalgic smile on the boy’s face. Osamu watched his lips move almost soundlessly, but whatever he had said caused Kiyoko to flinch slightly. When she turned around, her eyes were just barely glassy. 

“Sounds fine to us,” she said quietly, finally reaching forward to pull the papers toward her with finality. She tucked them into her briefcase, snapping it shut with some amount of flair. Osamu smiled, before pushing his chair out to stand. 

“We need ya to sign a couple documents, when yer ready. If ya go out and take a left, ye’ll see a lanky man with fuckin’ weird eyebrows. Motoya’ll help ya out with all that.” 

Kiyoko snorted out a laugh before leaving the room. Kageyama stayed behind, fidgeting in his chair. He shot a glance up at Osamu before looking down again, lips a tremulous line. Osamu waited patiently, honestly a little scared at being left alone with the boy.

“...Miya-san?” When Osamu nodded, Kageyama continued. “Th-thank you. For helping Kiyoko. And me.” Kageyama said all of this while glaring at the table, unable to apparently look up at Osamu. 

Osamu bit down hard on his lip to keep a grin in. 

“Hey, Tobio-kun?” he finally said, getting Kageyama to look up. “What’dja say to Kiyoko, after I told ya all the scary disclaimer shit?”

Kageyama went red, the rosy flush blooming from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He immediately began to stammer out a response, gaze fixed on the table. 

“Well, you said the Jackals would have our backs, right Miya-san?” Osamu nodded, curiosity piquing. “...kinda sounded like family to me.”

Osamu leaned back into his chair struck dumb. Soon after, Kageyama left the room quickly, following Kiyoko out. Some time later, Sakusa stuck his head into the room. “How’d it go, Osamu?” Osamu looked at him with an intense look in his eyes. “The kid was something else, Sakusa-san.”

Sakusa shot him another judgemental look. “Undergrad made you fucking soft, Miya.”

“Please don’t call me what ya call that fuckass, Sakusa-san.”

“You both need to stop with the ‘creative’ insults, they’re getting annoying.”

“Yer face is getting annoying.” 

When Sakusa-san turned a severe glare on him, Osamu knew he’d be made to regret that statement. 

* * *

It was true that Kageyama Tobio was very respectful to his elders, generally. It was also true that at times, Kageyama Tobio could be quite likeable, even soft. 

It just wasn’t a hard and fast rule.

“Were you literally  _ dropped _ on your  _ head _ as an infant? Because that’s the only explanation I can think of for why you’re  _ this _ much of a dumbass shithead.”

“Well I don’t know Kageyama-kun, maybe let’s call your mom and  _ compare _ , since you’re fairly entirely stupid too!”

Kageyama was going to use a spatula to beat him to death. He was going to upend an entire bowl of batter on Hinata Shouyou’s head, and then shove him into the oven and let him  _ roast _ . 

“Guys, let’s not fight…” Yachi Hitoka tried from the corner. The moment the bowl of dry ingredients had clattered from the counter to the floor, dousing both Hinata and Kageyama in a shower of white powder, she’d scrambled to the edge of the room, now perched on a barstool as far away from the conflict as possible.

“Oh don’t worry, Hitoka-chan. It won’t be much of a fight against this pipsqueak.” It should be noted that Kageyama wasn’t really one for conflict de-escalation. 

“Screw you, Kageyama. I can take you!” 

“What were you  _ thinking _ , trying to pick up a bowl  _ half your size _ to stir?” 

“I said I was sorry!” Hinata complained. 

“Yeah, and I said I was going to kill you if you spilled anything, so get ready to die, dumbass.”

At that exact moment, the three workers heard a jingle from the entryway of the store, and turned to see two men enter the store without preamble. One, being a carbon copy of the other Miya-san, was easy to identify. The other was a hulking man, broad shoulders and a severe frown. Hinata’s eyes widened as he took them both in. Kageyama suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Yo, Kiyoko-chan-whoa.” The Miya-san lookalike took in the scene the two were greeted with. Hinata and Kageyama were entirely coated in white powder, and the kitchen area was a colossal mess (luckily mostly hidden behind a partial wall). One the other hand, Yachi was trembling in the corner, already scared out of her wits by the mere presence of the men. When the hulking man took a step toward her, she let out a squeak and ran to hide behind Kageyama.

There was a split second of silence before the Miya-san lookalike burst into hysterical laughter, to the point where tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Hinata turned to look questioningly at Kageyama, but Kageyama just mimed slitting his throat back at him. 

“I guess we know where the missing drug shipment went,” he choked out between peals of laughter. That sent up warning bells in Kageyama, but before he could say anything, the other man spoke up:

“Actually, Miya, I believe that is flour. Possibly with the addition of baking soda.”

“Baking powder,” Kageyama corrected. “And some cream of tartar.”

“I apologize,” the man said solemnly. “Thank you for the clarification.”

Miya-san looked back and forth between them, before groaning. “Wakatoshi-kun, you’re cramping my style,” he complained. “You’re literally even worse than Omi-kun, and he prefers physical abuse.”

“Er, Miya-san?” Hinata piped up. “What are you here for?”

At this it seemed Kageyama was reinvigorated with a new dose of rage. He reached out to twist a hand in Hinata’s shirt dragging him closer. In his periphery, he saw both Miya-san and...Wakatoshi-kun? jump backward in astonishment. 

“They’re obviously here because of your dumbassery. Do you realize how far you’ve set back our prep schedule, you inept shithead?” he barked in Hinata’s face, and still Hinata had the audacity to just stick his tongue out at him. Kageyama shoved him backward lightly, turning to face the two men fully.

“Please take him out back and have him shot,” he said solemnly. Hinata yelped in complaint and a bit of fear. After all, no one in their right mind would joke about executions with the Jackals’ enforcer, right?

Miya-san looked at him, a look of mild fear in his eyes. “My brother said ya were  _ precious.  _ That’s the exact word he even used.”

“I suppose I am,” Kageyama remarked, clapping flour off of his hands. 

“Yer kinda...severe.”

“Actually,” Yachi piped up from behind the two boys. “He’s really only like that with people who piss him off.” The unspoken  _ Hinata _ reverberated loudly throughout the room. 

“How long have ya been workin’ here, Shouyou-kun?”

“I’ve been here two weeks!” Hinata chirped his answer with a quality not unlike a labrador retriever.

“I’m sure it’ll get better, Shouyou-kun. Maybe Tobio-kun and ya will get along.” Miya-san leveled a stare at Kageyama, and Kageyama felt the sudden urge to fidget slightly.

“Maybe if he stops being shitty,” he responded sullenly. Miya-san snorted. “Where’s yer cousin, Tobio-kun?”

“She went to coordinate with a supplier,” Kageyama replied, already beginning to move past the incident, shoving a mop into Hinata’s hand. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet ya, Tobio-kun. Yer not at all like what my brother said yer like, but I guess I like ya anyway.” 

“Thanks, Miya-san. I think I like you too. Though your laugh is kind of weird.” Kageyama said this directly to  _ Miya Atsumu _ , one of the dreaded heads of the Black Jackals, without flinching. 

“That is humorous,” Ushijima said humorlessly, driving the dagger into Atsumu further. “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi, in case any of you were wondering.”

“Nice to meet you, Ushijima-san,” the three of them said in unison. And against all logic, this man who struck fear into the hearts of mercenaries waved softly to these nineteen year olds, who then waved back. 

* * *

The first two months of any business were expected to be a bit...rocky. Kiyoko had figured that since she was starting a bakery, there would be unforeseen obstacles. She’d expressed as much to Tobio one night after their first meeting with Osamu, hoping for some reassurance. Without looking up from his recipe journal, Tobio had rattled off a laundry list of potential calamities, each worse than the last. 

Thank god Tobio had gone to culinary school. It always put her at such  _ ease _ . 

The odd bit was that the experiences they faced were actually both entirely separate from those of an ordinary business and those of an ordinary bakery. It probably should have been expected by all four of them that the biggest issues they’d face would be connected to the Jackals.

Sometimes, they all collectively  _ forgot _ that their small business was technically subsidized by the mafia; even Hinata, who’d grown up in the area and had lived in such a way that he was inextricably connected to the Black Jackals. That had actually been one of the reasons Kiyoko had hired him; she and Tobio needed someone with enough experience with the mafia, just to guide them through what would surely be a peculiar process. 

And though the incidences were rare, peculiar it was. There were smaller incidents, when one of the Miyas would come in with bloodied knuckles, bloodstained clothes, guns strapped to their body in full view. This was usually Atsumu-san, though on the occasions Osamu came in dishevelled, he always looked drained. (Those were usually the days Kiyoko would call in for takeout and the five of them would eat dinner together). 

In hindsight, the larger incidents were...bizarre. Hinata called them hilarious, but Kiyoko felt that minimized the fear involved. 

One of the worst had taken place recently. Kiyoko had left the three of them (Tobio, Hinata, and Yachi) to mind the store on a Wednesday so she could iron out a discrepancy in one of their recent bank statements with Motoya-san. When she returned, she found a large man with an even larger gun passed out in their to-go lane, a weighty sheet pan on the ground near him. Apparently a member of a rival organization, he’d tried to threaten Yachi into emptying the cash register. Yachi, who was still afraid of even Osamu, had immediately begun to scream and grabbed the first thing in reach to throw at him (apparently a heavy sheet pan). The man had been knocked out cold, and Hinata had burst out laughing, giving an inconsolable Yachi double high-fives.

Tobio was kneading dough with headphones on in the kitchen, and hadn’t noticed that a man had intended to murder them.

Kiyoko remembers the cold rage she’d had that day, unleashing it all on Osamu and Sakusa-san when they’d finally come around. 

“Do you remember what I told you my priorities were,  _ Osamu _ ?” She hadn’t given him the chance to respond, answering her own question. “Tobio. Taking  _ care _ of Tobio. He almost  _ died _ today. I mean, he didn’t notice that he almost died, but that doesn’t change that fact.”

Needless to say, the Jackals increased security. Kiyoko was incredibly thankful for the results of that decision, her fear of leaving her workers alone greatly decreased. Still, she wasn’t quite expecting what was perhaps the largest impact of their heightened security. 

Kiyoko felt she had a good read on Tobio, in general at least. She knew he and Hinata would be a good partnership when she hired him, and though they had their... _ conflicts _ , this was an incontrovertible fact. Hitoka-chan was unassuming and kind enough for Tobio to like her, and Kiyoko was also sure of the mutual liking Tobio and Osamu had for one another (especially since Osamu turned out to be a closet culinary buff). 

Still, Kiyoko wouldn’t have predicted that Tobio would become fast friends with the Jackals’ most fearsome enforcer. 

Around 6’3” and built like a tank, Ushijima Wakatoshi had been Sakusa-san’s solution to their most recent problem. Ushijima-san spent most of the morning sitting at the front counter of the bakery, his imposing presence both reassuring and oddly threatening. Yachi subbed out of the cashier shift in the morning, swapping with Hinata who was content to talk Ushijima-san’s ear off. Kiyoko liked working out front, exchanging limited interactions with their patrons in the morning. Tobio, of course, worked almost exclusively in the kitchen, though he did come out front to either yell at Hinata or begrudgingly ask him to sample something. 

For the first couple days, Ushijima-san sat as still as a statue, answering Hinata’s questions shortly. When Hinata disappeared into the back to work with Tobio on tweaking a recipe for boysenberry danishes (Kiyoko swapped positions with him, since Yachi was baking lemon bars and was also still terrified of Ushijima), no one interacted with him. Ushijima-san seemed perfectly content to sit in silence until he had to leave. 

When Friday came around, though, that changed. Almost every Friday, Hinata and Tobio had a harmless(ish) bake-off. Tobio almost surely had a leg-up in terms of skill, but Hinata had a natural instinct for what flavor profiles would do well together in a pastry. Kiyoko had spent months trying to transition them from working against one another to working  _ with _ one another, but hadn’t had much luck yet. 

As it turned out, she had out-of-office errands to run that morning, so when Tobio and Hinata approached her to judge, she had nominated Ushijima-san to replace her for that day.

“I would be honored,” he’d intoned deeply. He was a living, breathing human who could metabolize baked goods, so neither Hinata nor Tobio cared much. 

When Kiyoko returned, she found Hinata and Kageyama deeply engrossed in their work, both hunched over one bowl of dry ingredients. Even more surprisingly,  _ Hinata _ was sifting in ground cinnamon. Tobio rarely allowed Hinata to perform even the most minor tasks when they ‘worked together’. 

Yachi was finishing up with a customer, and she shot Kiyoko a grin as she handed over a cup of coffee and a bag likely containing one of her freshly-baked lemon bars. “Did you know that Ushijima-san would help Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun work together?” she asked in wonder. Kiyoko’s eyes widened, immediately taking a seat at the front counter, forcing Yachi to recount the events of the morning.

As usual, Tobio had baked something technically complex, while Hinata had baked something simpler with an interesting flavor profile. Yachi had sampled both along with Ushijima-san, though she wasn’t one for passing judgement. She had been interested in what an enforcer for the Jackals would say, so she didn’t disappear after her portion. 

“Are both pastries separate?” was apparently this first question he asked. Hinata and Tobio had cocked their heads to the side simultaneously in confusion, before one of them had answered in the affirmative. “Something about these pastries works very well together. I think combining them would be a good idea. Also, Kageyama-kun, yours might need fresh rosemary.” 

“Kageyama-kun had the weirdest look on his face, Shimizu-san! He immediately dragged Hinata into the kitchen and they haven’t come out in  _ hours _ .” Yachi had a massive grin on her face that Kiyoko was sure she was mirroring. They’d been waiting for the two to work together for  _ ages. _

“Maybe I should check on them,” Kiyoko finally said, standing from her perch at the front counter. It was entirely useless though, since in that moment, Hinata and Tobio exploded through the door that led to the kitchen.

“Kiyoko, can I use your phone?!” Tobio yelled, panting. Kiyoko stood facing the two of them, stunned, before she snapped out of it to feel for her phone in her pocket. She tossed it to him, and he immediately fished a piece of paper from his apron, dialing whatever number was on the slip. Kiyoko and Yachi weren’t held in suspense for much longer though, since he called a name into the phone the moment the other end picked up.

“Ushijima-san. Hinata and I figured it out. Can you come to the bakery?”

Kiyoko’s eyes widened in alarm. “Tobio,” she whispered harshly. “You can’t just ask him to abandon whatever he’s doing to-”

“I will be there. I will bring Sakusa, because he is with me right now.” There were sounds of slight rustling, and a quiet background conversation. “He also has good taste, love life notwithstanding.”

Huh. Kiyoko was honestly a little astonished. Not ten minutes later, Ushijima-san and Sakusa-san pulled open the door to the bakery, just as Hinata and Tobio brought out a warm pan of their new recipe. Ushijima-san taste-tested just as he existed, with no change in his expression. He chewed for a concerningly long time, to the point where Sakusa-san shot him a worrying look (he’d swallowed his morsel a while back). 

“I’m allowing the flavors to manifest on the palate,” Ushijima explained, monotone. Tobio nodded in support solemnly. Kiyoko felt the bizarre urge to laugh. 

“It’s very good,” he finally said. Hinata and Tobio fist-pumped simultaneously, before violently high-fiving in a display of triumph. Then they turned their eyes upon Sakusa-san, whose mouth had appeared only momentarily to feed himself before being covered up by a black mask. The boys waited in bated breath, and it took Sakusa a couple seconds of their collective silence to realize they were waiting for feedback.

“I agree with Wakatoshi-kun,” was all he said, and he proceeded to scrunch his nose and frown when Hinata whooped. Still, Kiyoko couldn’t keep in a breathless laugh. Tobio and Hinata had called in one of the leaders of the Jackals and their most prominent enforcer to taste-test a recipe. The life they were living now was bizarre, but she couldn’t deny how  _ right _ it felt.

And so it went. Hinata and Tobio’s spiced tiramisu went on the menu. Ushijima-san was now saved in her speed-dial for taste-testing. She’d sometimes find Tobio on the phone with him, having comically monotone conversations. Hinata and Tobio finally began to work together, to an insane degree of success. Sakusa-san called in weekly orders, and chatted idly with Yachi when he came to pick it up. 

It was a new normal. 

* * *

“Hi, Kiyoko-chan! Where’s the little trio?”

Kiyoko looked up from coating focaccia bread dough in olive oil to see not one but  _ both _ the Miyas at the front of the bakery. If that wasn’t enough cause for alarm, Sakusa-san stepped through the door momentarily, stoic as always. Kiyoko washed her hands, hands shaking just slightly in concern before pulling a towel from the rack and stepping out to the front.

“Is something wrong?” she asked cautiously. Miya Atsumu’s expression morphed into one of confusion before he looked between Kiyoko and Sakusa/Osamu. His eyes lit up in understanding and his relaxed smirk returned.

“We’re not all here for the news, Omi and I are just here to pick up his weekly order of whatever Tobio-kun baked for him today.” Kiyoko relaxed, walking behind the counter to pull out Sakusa’s order from their warmer. 

“He went classic today, Sakusa-san. Blueberry muffins, and I think there’s a sample of the rosemary focaccia he and Hinata are trying out.” Kiyoko couldn’t be sure, but she thought Sakusa smiled. Atsumu plucked the bag from her hands, but then he settled onto one of the barstools near the front counter, propping his legs up onto the counter.

“I mean, we’re here now. Might as well stay for the news,” he said, by way of explanation. 

Kiyoko folded her arms across her chest, concern painted across her face. Osamu cleared his throat, smiling reassuringly. “It’s actually mostly good news this time, Kiyoko.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Aoba Johsai, or Seijoh.” At Kiyoko’s nod, he continued. “They’re generally decent. Sakusa and I’ve been working with their leadership on a possible peace accord, something we could transition into an alliance. The Jackals are strong, and so’s Seijoh, but there are some new players in town, and we wanna make sure they don’t get any ideas.” 

“What does this mean for us?” Kiyoko asked, still confused as to why this was news for her. 

“Well, the first step in these situations is allowing members of both organizations to travel openly in opposite territories.” At Kiyoko’s look of alarm, Osamu raised a placating hand. “It really is good news, Kiyoko. We’re doubling your pool of customers.” 

“Doubling our pool of customers also means increasing the chances of concerning incidents. Need I remind you of an incident involving a metal sheet pan, luck, and  _ children _ ?”

“They’re literally at most two years younger than us, Kiyoko-chan,” Atsumu drawled. Kiyoko turned a flat stare on him, and he raised both hands in a surrendering gesture. 

“There’s more at stake here for them if they misbehave, Kiyoko,” Osamu explained, trying to soothe her concerns. 

“Seijoh’s decent, Kiyoko-san. I wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true. I’ll station Wakatoshi-kun with you for the whole day if it makes you feel better.” Sakusa had a look of aggravation on his face; Kiyoko guessed his consternation was probably due to the fact that Atsumu was eating his rapidly-cooling blueberry muffins. 

“Yeah, Kiyoko-chan. And their leader is kind of a wimp; he’s whiny and pretty weak. Not to mention, he’s kinda dramatic, like a drama queen.” Kiyoko caught most of that, though it was pretty difficult to decipher around the blueberry muffin in his mouth.

“Actually, Miya, I think he’s a lot like you,” Sakusa struck a lethal blow without a change in the bored expression on his face. “If I didn’t know Osamu was your twin, I’d have thought it was him.” Miya choked, a betrayed expression painted over his face. 

“Oooo, he called ya ‘Miya’. Someone’s in troubleeee…” Osamu singsonged under his breath. Sakusa walked out the door without waiting for Atsumu, and Atsumu scrambled to his feet, flipping Osamu the bird before running out the door. 

“One thing, Kiyoko.” Osamu walked up to the counter, eyes deadly serious. “I know that asswipe seemed flippant, but Seijoh is a powerful organization. They can’t be powerful if their members are pathetic. ‘Tsumu can say whatever the fuck he wants, because he carries around four guns at all times. Do ya understand what I mean?” Osamu’s stare drilled into her, and she quickly nodded. He smiled then, swiping a cookie from the display swiftly and running out the door before she could berate him. 

Kiyoko let out a breath, settling back against the counter. Rationally, she knew everything would be fine; Sakusa-san and Osamu wouldn’t make a decision like this unless they were sure. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was going to happen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It finally happened on a Saturday morning, just after the morning rush, thank god. Kiyoko, Hinata, and Tobio were working in the kitchen, Kiyoko mostly just supervising, when they heard Yachi squeak. Kiyoko peeked out into the front area to see a man loitering just outside the bakery. Upon a second glance, he wasn’t loitering as much as he was second-guessing his decision to enter the bakery.

That was slightly suspicious in and of itself, but what likely caused Yachi to squeak was how clear it was this man was an enforcer. Over the months, all four of them (minus Hinata, who already knew) learnt to identify members of organization based on gait, expression, and a miscellaneous criterion Hinata had named ‘muscles’. Muscles could, however, apply to sheer intimidation as well (as it did in the case of Sakusa-san and Ushijima-san). 

The man carried himself like an enforcer, wearing a stern expression on his face. His hair was spiky, and slightly dishevelled. He wasn’t as tall as Ushijima, but made up for that in both muscle mass and intimidation. He was wearing street clothes, but Kiyoko was fully certain this man was an enforcer for Seijoh. 

At this point, Hinata and Tobio had joined her in peeking out into the front area, and Yachi had begun to tremble in her shoes. The man seemed to make a decisive choice, pulling the door open. The jingle of the doorbell echoed in the shop, and the man walked forward calmly, with a smile on his face. 

None of this seemed to soothe Yachi in the slightest.

In hindsight, Kiyoko likely should have intervened earlier; knowing he was from Seijoh forced her into some sort of permanent spectator role in that moment. She couldn’t fault Hinata and Tobio for not intervening; neither of them knew what was going on, and he did seem a rather threatening stranger. 

“Hello,” the man said cheerfully. Yachi squeaked at the sound of his voice, and he slowed in his steps forward, a look of confusion on his face. Still, he soldiered on.

“Well, uh, my name is Iwaizumi Hajime. I’m a member of Seijoh.” Yachi, of course, had heard of Seijoh, but only as a rival organization to the Jackals. Kiyoko watched Yachi’s hand twitch, and she remembered something very important in that moment.

She’d forgotten to tell the trio anything about the peace accord.

“Hitoka-chan, wait-” 

But it was too late. Kiyoko watched in dawning horror as Yachi grabbed the nearest thing (this time, a chocolate chip muffin) and launched it at the man (Iwaizumi, apparently). The muffin hit him square in the face before falling to the ground, the light thud sounding much more violent in line with her heartbeat. 

Then Hinata and Tobio started to laugh. 

God, Kiyoko was going to be singlehandedly responsible for a war. Not that she would see any of it, considering they would all be  _ dead _ . 

She should’ve just gotten a loan from the bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who was hoping that I'd write more oikage after that single oneshot from months ago (this demographic probably doesn't exist) thank @queentheband. They finally talked me into it. 
> 
> Don't worry, Oikawa will be here soon. Whenever I plan and write the second chapter of this fic. Wish me luck, y'all. 
> 
> Also comments are always appreciated! I try to reply to as many of them as possible! Though, knowing my beta, if you comment something pro-oikage, they'll literally respond before me with bounding enthusiasm. Like a laborador retriever.


	2. a ticking thyme bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to actually meet Iwaizumi Hajime.
> 
> And who else? Maybe Seijoh's boss and Iwa's best friend, Oikawa Tooru.
> 
> Feat. Ushikage friendship, Sakuatsu, and Iwaizumi adopting Kageyama and Hinata.
> 
> Also featuring fashion disaster Oikawa-san. 
> 
> Set to the dulcet tones of focaccia bread and piping hot coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I am so glad so many of you enjoyed the first chapter! In this one, you actually get the fated meet-cute that goes about as off the rails as y'all would expect.
> 
> A huge massive behemoth of a shout-out to my darling beta @queentheband for all the help I received. 
> 
> This fic is just so much...fun? Also not me being COMPLETELY irresponsible and trying to sandwich a sakuatsu scene into this chapter. I hope you're happy @Cloudcollector.

Kageyama Tobio woke with a recipe for focaccia bread floating through his mind. 

More specifically, he woke at the sound of his phone ringing, but it was with bread on his mind. It was going to be a focaccia bread kind of day, and he wasn’t sure that was entirely good news.

Kageyama invariably woke with a baked good in his thoughts. Usually, it was fully related to what he was working on the day before. Still, he’d come to associate different recipes with different types of days. It was a bit like astrology; most of the predictions were vague, and made since in hindsight. Still, there were those who swore by it.

Focaccia bread, though hearty and filling, still implied something unexpected. Something new, something out of the ordinary for everyone. Possibilities spanned the gamut: Kageyama may choose to make a raspberry compote for his cupcake fillings instead of blackberry.

Or, a member of a rival (but not really) gang could wander through the front door of the bakery and get brained in the head by Yachi launching a chocolate chip muffin at him at warp speed. 

Who could say? Either way, none of this was really passing through Kageyama’s mind. Instead, he was furiously scribbling down what he could remember of the focaccia bread recipe from his memories.  _ Four sprigs of fresh rosemary, twelve crushed peppercorns… _ His phone was still buzzing on his nightstand, ignored. 

On the very last ring, Kageyama lunged for his phone, holding up to his ear with a sleepy “‘ello?”

“I apologize, Kageyama-kun. Did I wake you?” Ushijima’s deep voice thundered even through the phone connection. Much more concerning, however, were the sounds of gunfire and general yelling in the background.

Kageyama didn’t really care. 

“Yes, Ushijima-san. But I had to wake up anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

“Still, I will adjust my calling time.” Ushijima went silent then, as if he were writing this down somewhere. Kageyama slowly got up, trudging to his bathroom and trying not to fall asleep against the wall (again). 

“Tobio!” Kiyoko called from downstairs, a note of urgency in her voice. Kageyama pulled the phone from his ear (he was really only missing sounds of carnage) to check the time, eyes widening at the realization that he was late. Kageyama was very rarely late, unless he’d spent unsanctioned amounts of time working on recipes the night before.

“Ushijima-san, did you need anything?” Kageyama asked, directly after which he shoved his toothbrush in his mouth. Ushijima did not reply for a minute, which Kageyama was grateful for (after all, his mouth was filled with toothpaste suds). 

“I wanted to see if we were still on for a run this evening.” Kageyama spit, gargling water before speaking again. “Yes. Four miles?”

“Indeed. We could even push it to four and a half.”

Kageyama raised his eyebrows in a mild expression of interest before he made an affirmative hum and said his goodbyes, running down the stairs. 

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

It was always nice to start his day with a call from Ushijima-san. The two went on a run everyday, when the bakery closed at six. Kiyoko called it ‘training for a nonexistent marathon’ and worried for his safety after sunset. Kageyama didn’t really understand why. After all, he was with Ushijima-san. 

Kageyama grabbed a banana off of their counter, shoving his recipe journal into the front pocket of his work backpack and beelining for the door Kiyoko had just left through. The morning was a whirlwind, but Kageyama paused at the door, looking back into the house.

A focaccia bread day.

Interesting. 

* * *

Kageyama really did like Yacchan. He just wasn’t sure that throwing things at customers was the best policy. 

In the moment after the muffin hit the spiky-haired man’s face, Yacchan definitely stopped breathing. She stumbled back into Kageyama, and he put a hand on her shoulder (if only to prevent her from passing out and hitting her head on the floor). Kiyoko gasped, bringing both her hands to her face and covering her mouth, eyes wide. 

Then, Hinata started to giggle. Kageyama whipped around to look at him incredulously, hoping his glare would shut him up. If anything, it only made Hinata laugh harder. 

Against all common sense, Kageyama began to chuckle. Having a dumbass for a best friend made one do stupid things, and for a second Kageyama couldn’t think of anything funnier than this man getting brained by a chocolate chip muffin. 

Kiyoko shot him and Hinata a wildly angry look, but for the first time in a very long time Kageyama felt immune to Kiyoko’s glare. He just couldn’t  _ stop _ laughing, and once he and Hinata shared a glance they were just laughing again, more raucously than before. 

In this time, Yachi had begun to take breaths again, choosing to hyperventilate as she scurried to hide behind Kageyama. Kageyama was still halfway tipped over, leaning on Hinata’s shoulder as they laughed. The man looked up, eliciting a squeak from Yachi and an intake of breath from Kiyoko.

Then, against all expectations, the man started to  _ chuckle _ .

“You’ve got a good arm,” he commented at Yachi, who instantly bloomed red. His words finally prompted Kiyoko into action, and she dove for napkins to hand him. The man knelt to pick up the now-smushed chocolate chip muffin, tossing it between his hands. 

“Who knew chocolate-chip muffins make such a potent projectile? Maybe we should abandon bullets altogether.” His casual allusion to the fact that yes, he was indeed still a mafia member and no, he hadn’t ruled out killing them all caused Kiyoko to stiffen, something Kageyama caught out of the corner of his eye.

Kageyama still didn’t really care. He thought maybe the guy was trying to be funny.

“Like I said, my name is Iwaizumi Hajime. I work with Seijoh- er, Aoba Johsai.”

Hinata stopped laughing abruptly, eyes widening in what was a slightly scary expression on Hinata’s face. Kageyama stiffened subconsciously, turning to face the strange man fully, shielding Yachi behind him. 

“I met some of your new recruits a couple months ago,” Hinata gritted out. “They weren’t very nice.” Kageyama almost rolled his eyes; rival mafia members not being  _ nice _ seemed about as self-explanatory as self-rising flour. Still, the idiot had somehow become one of Kageyama’s friends, and it didn’t seem quite right to yell at him about getting harassed by admittedly very dangerous people. 

Maybe after this man left. 

On the other hand, the man hung his head slightly. When he looked back up, Kageyama was almost startled to see an apologetic look in his eyes. 

“New recruits are always eager to prove themselves. Not to mention, they were taught that this was  _ enemy territory _ , it still was at the time.” The man winced slightly before continuing. “The Jackals have always employed more... _ mature _ members. We make up for it in quantity. Still, there are some deficits.”

Hinata cocked his head to the side, surveying the man with an innocent eagerness. And then he smiled, apparently having forgiven the man for any sins he’d committed against the Jackals in about five seconds. 

Hinata really jumped between extremes at light speed. Kageyama had to suppress a sigh of exhaustion. 

“So, what do you do? Do you guys have a Sakusa-san? And an Atsumu-san? Do you guys have an Osamu-san? Do you guys have a bakery in your territory? Do you-”

“-Shut up, Hinata,” Kageyama interjected, placing a soft but firm hand atop his orange hair and yanking lightly. “He can only answer one question at a time.” To Kageyama’s surprise, the man laughed again, seemingly incredibly at ease. 

“Well, I’m kind of a cross between an enforcer and a boss. I do a lot of different things. I also train new recruits.” Kageyama filed this information away absently. Ushijima-san would probably appreciate it. 

“I’m not fully certain what functions each of your leaders play, but I’d say I’m somewhat of a cross between an Osamu-san and Sakusa-san. And we do have an Atsumu-san, just somehow more annoying.” Hinata laughed brightly, and Kageyama couldn’t help a flutter of a smile. He liked Atsumu-san, but he was definitely odd. He spent a lot of time teasing Kageyama, all in good humor of course, but it was still annoying. 

Kageyama really never wanted to meet this leader of Seijoh if he was  _ more annoying than Atsumu-san _ .

Kageyama was distracted out of his own thought process by Kiyoko’s soft laugh. She was apparently out of her ultra-angry mode, and back into good humor.

“Sakusa-san was in here a couple days ago, and he had a different assessment. I believe his words were ‘he’s a lot like you, but you’re a lot worse’.” Kiyoko let out another laugh, this time joined by the man. 

“So, what will you have?” Kiyoko finally took the reins of the transaction, as Kageyama dimly realized that Yachi had disappeared into the back. 

“Well, as a first-timer, what do you recommend?” The man should have been speaking to Kiyoko, but instead he posed this question to Kageyama. Kageyama froze for a couple seconds, Hinata nudging him in the side irritatingly to get him to speak. The man seemed to reconsider his choice, clearing his throat. “I thought, because you’re wearing the white hat…”

He trailed off, and Kageyama found his voice again. “It’s a  _ toque. _ Or a  _ toque blanche _ . ‘Cause it’s white.” The two stared at each other for a couple seconds, but the man smiled at him almost fondly. Usually Kageyama didn’t like interacting with customers much, save for Sakusa-san and Ushijima-san. 

Maybe this man (Iwaizumi-san?) would be an exception too.

“Yacchan baked lemon bars last night, they’re really good. I would also recommend the spiced citrus scones Hinata and I made. And...a coffee?” 

Iwaizumi-san smiled. “Sounds amazing. I’ll take one of each.” 

As Kageyama fetched change for Iwaizumi-san’s transaction, he dimly wondered if he’d made a friend.

* * *

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi froze, his best friend’s whiny voice filtering through his commlink. It had been a couple weeks since the Great Chocolate Chip Muffin Incident, when he’d visited the bakery for the first time. In the time since, he had made the executive decision to keep the existence of the bakery and its workers a secret from his best friend for certain incredibly relevant reasons. It didn’t help matters that Oikawa was frustratingly perceptive. With anyone else, he’d have been able to hold out for at least two months. 

He ducked out of sight, rounding the corner before their target saw him.

“Is there literally any other time we can do this, Shittykawa? I’m in the middle of something.”

“I know you’re ‘in the middle of something’, Iwa-chan. I’m staring at you through my scope.”

“I can’t believe you’re just casually mentioning you’re pointing a gun at me.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, pulling his jean jacket tighter around him as the wind picked up.

“I would never shoot. I mean, the possibility of me shooting is much higher now that I know you’re keeping something from me. A secret, you’re hiding from me.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes again, choosing to remain silent.

“Are you seeing someone? A girl? A boy? A none/all of the above? Are they cooler than me?” Iwaizumi prayed to any god that existed that he’d get shot at so this conversation would end. Oikawa would never let up on this, he’d just get increasingly illogical-

Oikawa gasped loudly over the comms. “Are you dating someone from a rival organization, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi groaned. “Thank fuck this isn’t an open line.”

“Oh, it is,” a newly familiar voice cooed. Iwaizumi fought the urge to walk into a concrete wall as Miya Atsumu got involved. “What’s new with your love life, Iwa-kun?” 

“Nothing is new with my love life, Miya. What about yours?” Iwaizumi hoped to hell Sakusa would recognize his cue, and keep this mission on priority. 

“Omi-Omi and I are just fine, Iwa-kun. So yer really not with anyone?” 

“Yeah, Iwa-chan! You’re literally hiding someone from me.” Iwaizumi’s eyelid ticked characteristically as he tried his best to suppress his anger. 

“You two are  _ jeopardizing the mission, in favor of what? My imaginary partner? _ ” Just as Iwaizumi clicked his tongue in annoyance at the end of the statement, a silenced bullet flew over his shoulder. He whipped around quickly to see their target with a perfect round through his forehead.

“Watch your 6, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi was going to kill him. That is, if Sakusa didn’t kill them all first.

“So.” Sakusa’s voice came through their comms, voice cold. “Oikawa-san. Is this how Seijoh conducts all of its missions?” Iwaizumi heard Atsumu gulp over their link, and tried to keep a grip on his own anger. Partnership or not, he didn’t do well with people criticizing his best friend, even when Oikawa was being a dipshit. 

“The objective was to eliminate, Sakusa-kun. I waited until Iwa-chan had followed him to an abandoned section of the city where I’ve already installed a clean-up crew-” Iwaizumi whipped around to see Yahaba and Watari climb down a fire-escape and land in a crouch near the dead body, hauling it away neatly. “-and then I put a perfectly-placed bullet into his forehead. So what if he noticed Iwa-chan a couple seconds before he died?” Oikawa said all of this breezily, but with an underlying steel to his voice. Since their partnership began, Iwaizumi was thankful that the two organizations hadn’t faced much conflict. They were perfectly complementary in style, and had matching objectives. Still, partnering their top men in missions, well-it just seemed likely to force them to butt heads. 

“It’s fine, Omi-Omi. I got the necessary stuff off him when I was in the field. And as far as I could tell, that bullet was actually in the fuckin’ center of his forehead; didja hafta do that?”

“Perfection cannot be suppressed, Atsu-kun.” 

“Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I can still hear you.”

“I know.”

Iwaizumi let out a slightly breathless laugh, jogging several blocks back to their nest for this mission. He didn’t have to oversee Yahaba and Watari on clean-up anymore; they were far too skilled for that, far too skilled for clean-up, actually. It was clear Oikawa wanted this to go well too. 

“Very well, Oikawa-san. If you can come back to the MSBY building to debrief that would be nice. It’s closer, and I want us to brief Osamu after.” Oikawa chirped an affirmative, never one to incite a useless pissing match where one didn’t need to exist. Sakusa was quite the same, something Iwaizumi was thankful for. 

“Iwa-chan, I can pick you up at the corner with that one deli?” Iwaizumi slowed to a stop, coming to a sudden realization. 

“Uh, no.” Iwaizumi bit his lip, crossing his fingers behind his back before he started walking away again.

“...Okay? I mean, where else should I pick you up from?” Iwaizumi could practically imagine the dumbass cocking his head to the side in confusion, that one floofy curl on the top of his head bobbing back and forth.

“Nowhere. I have plans. I assume it’ll be fine if I come in later to speak to you, Sakusa-san…? Whenever Atsumu debriefs?” Iwaizumi ignored Oikawa’s squawk of anger for Sakusa’s affirmation. 

Surprisingly enough, Sakusa cleared his throat awkwardly. “That-that should be fine, Iwaizumi-san.” Now Atsumu was shouting in anger, and the commlink flooded with overlapping complaints until Sakusa muted both of them in a bored sort of way. 

“Didja hafta cockblock me to keep your girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever a secret, Iwaizumi?” Atsumu’s harried whine came through when Sakusa unmuted them first. Sakusa cleared his throat again awkwardly, and Iwaizumi wished the ground would swallow him whole. 

“What sort of secret are you hiding from me, Iwa-chan? I can’t remember the last time you were like this.” Oikawa’s complaint was a little quieter now, a little more serious.

Damnit. Makki and Mattsun would know about this by the end of the hour. Fuck. 

“Nothing, Oikawa. I just have plans and can’t debrief with you today. It’s not some huge conspiracy against you, I promise. There is no secret.” With that, Iwaizumi pulled the commlink from his ear, turning it off and slipping it into his pocket. As he ran up the stairs to the nest, he looked down for barely three seconds.

He then ran smack into Sakusa Kiyoomi.

You’d think a man as tall and broad as him would make some sound as he came down the stairs. Apparently not. Sakusa stiffened before he pulled a portable disinfectant spray from his pocket. After saturating the air around them extensively (Iwaizumi withheld his coughs, his eyes watering slightly), Sakusa handed him his backpack. The two of them walked down the stairs side by side this time, mostly in silence. 

“So, what’s the secret?” Iwaizumi looked up at Sakusa in surprise; it seemed unlikely that Sakusa had actually spoken to him about matters unrelated to a mission, and he felt the need to catch Sakusa’s mouth moving to legitimize the event. Then again, Sakusa had on his characteristic black mask, and Iwaizumi couldn’t very well tell if he’d spoken at all.

“Uh,” he said dumbly. Sakusa’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the feeling he was being scrutinized.

“Are you really hiding your partner from Oikawa-san?”

“Oh. Oh! No, of course not. Oikawa’s a pain in the ass but he’s my best friend. I could never date someone who didn’t pass his meticulous approval.” If Iwaizumi squinted and cocked his head to the right, he could imagine that Sakusa had smiled at that. 

“Then, what is it?” Iwaizumi would wager that Sakusa’s curiosity in this case was uncharacteristic of him. In fact, he’d even go as far as to say that it was likely a by-product of living with Atsumu for so long. 

“A bakery. One of yours, actually. Kageyama-kun and Hinata-kun invited me to taste-test a focaccia bread recipe they’ve been perfecting for the past couple weeks. Apparently the secret ingredient was  _ thyme _ , something Tobio was quite passionately expressing to me this morning.” 

This time, Iwaizumi didn’t even have to imagine Sakusa’s smile; the fondness in his eyes was quite apparent, and Iwaizumi imagined it mirrored the look in his own eyes. “Does everyone end up smitten with those two boys?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Iwaizumi-san.” Sakusa was still smiling though, and his eyes were softer than Iwaizumi had ever seen them when they weren’t focused on Atsumu doing something absolutely stupid but apparently endearing. “If you go, can you tell Kageyama-kun that Atsumu ate all my muffins? He’ll know what to do.”

Iwaizumi shook his head, chuckling. “Miya doesn’t seem to have an adequate self-preservation complex.” 

“He does not, no. He’s only alive right now because he’s a vital part of this operation.” Sakusa turned on his heel, walking away in the opposite direction.

“And because you love him!” Iwaizumi called after Sakusa’s retreating figure.

“...Yeah, I do.” Sakusa mumbled, apparently assuming he was out of earshot. Iwaizumi grinned before flagging down a cab. Next stop: freshly baked goods.

* * *

“I can’t believe Iwa-chan is keeping secrets from me.” Oikawa took a sad swig out of some unmarked, uncapped bottle. The moment the bottom hit the table, Makki leaned over to snatch the bottle for a drink.

“When I agreed to get a drink with ya, I didn’t mean this shit where we  _ share our feelings. _ ” Atsumu’s derision was very clear, though he was slurring his words at this point. 

“Iwaizumi keeps secrets from you all the time, shut up about it.” This was said by Makki, who was tipsy beyond belief at this point. Mattsun was slowly nudging the bottle away from Makki, who was too busy yelling at Oikawa to notice. “If you care so much, you literally run a mafia, just tail him.” 

“I agree with just the ‘shut up’ part.” Atsumu waved an empty shot glass around as if to accentuate his point. 

“Atsu-kun, help me tail Iwa-chan.” Atsumu curled his lip in distaste, turning to sneer at Oikawa. 

“No fuckin’ way I’m doin’ that. Are ya fuckin’ kidding me?” Atsumu’s litany of expletives both shrunk and expanded when drunk, something made exceptionally clear in the moment. “I gotta get home to Omi-Omi and ‘Samu.”

“Yeah, Oikawa. He has to get home to his brother and his boyfriend, which isn’t weird at all.” Makki avoided the wadded-up napkin Atsumu threw at his head gracefully. “And my roguishly handsome boyfriend is our designated driver, so let him take us home. It’s not Iwaizumi’s fault he’s getting some and you’re not.” 

“But I want to  _ know _ who he’s getting some  _ from _ . What if it’s someone bad?” Oikawa pouted, and watched Atsumu suppress the urge to sock him in the face. 

“We’re all ‘bad’ by the traditional definitions of morality and greater spirituality. Now, everyone has their guns and their jackets?” Mattsun herded the three of them out of the bar like toddlers, slapping a sizable tip down on the table and smiling at the barstaff. Couldn’t hurt to stay on the good side of those who supply the alcohol. 

They dropped off Atsumu first, Makki and Oikawa waving goodbye to Osamu who came to collect him from the car. Not even Atsumu tripping over a rock and falling into the lawn made Oikawa feel better (though it did bring a smile to his face).

By the time Makki and Mattsun had dropped him off at his own house, and he’d climbed the stairs to his loft bedroom, he still couldn’t shake his certainty that Iwaizumi was hiding something big. After all, what could it be that he’d hide from his own best friend?

“Stop stressing, Oikawa. It’s Iwaizumi. You knew each other in diapers. He’d never hurt you, not even accidentally.” Oikawa felt a soft touch against his forehead, and heard a Mattsun-like voice near his ear. Then he succumbed to his admittedly tequila-induced drowsiness, and drifted into slumber. 

* * *

“Mother _ fuckin’ _ son of a-” 

Sakusa really loved quiet mornings. Sitting on the balcony with a freshly brewed cup of coffee (courtesy of Osamu, who just had a golden touch when it came to most food and drink), watching the sun rise over the mountains. 

“Fuckin’  _ shitcake, _ mother of-”

In complete and utter silence, so that he could listen to the city come alive beneath him. 

“ _ Bastard fucker- _ ” 

Yeah that had never once happened. Silently, Sakusa counted to ten in his mind, before he turned around with a blank expression on his face.

“Is something wrong, Miya?” Atsumu froze in the act of trying to shove two legs into the one side of his pants, something no one should ever do considering it leads to the world’s most predictable problem-

-of falling over face-first into the ground.  _ Again. _

A year into (regrettably) loving Atsumu, Sakusa was still dumbfounded as to how a dumb man could get impossibly dumber when he was hungover. Just one of the many things that made Sakusa question all of his life choices that centered around Atsumu (Sakusa had an itemized list). 

“I’m okay, Omi!” Atsumu called, voice muffled by their rug. Sakusa returned to watching his city wake up with a slight smile as Atsumu freshened up, finally returning to a semblance of his normal self.

“So, you talked to Iwa-kun about his secret relationship?” Atsumu immediately questioned as he emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth and words garbled.

“Stop meddling, Atsumu. Our partnership is barely three weeks old.” 

“And Oikawa and Iwaizumi already know we’re in a relationship, so a little info-gathering is only right, don’tcha think, Omi-kun?” Sakusa rolled his eyes, not choosing to dignify that with a response. After all, it’s not like they were ever hiding their relationship; in fact, Atsumu was the one who chose to flaunt it, calling them a ‘power couple who struck fear into the hearts of their enemies’. 

Dork.

“So, what’s Iwaizumi hidin’?” Sakusa sighed, turning around to fully face the entryway to the bathroom that Atsumu had disappeared into again.

“For some reason, Kageyama-kun.”

A couple of beats of silence. Then, Atsumu bolted to the doorway, toothpaste foam flecked around his lips. 

“ _ Iwaizumi is dating Tobio-kun? _ ” 

“No. He’s hiding the bakery, and his friendship with Kageyama. I believe his exact words were that he’d ‘adopted’ Kageyama-kun and Hinata-kun.” Atsumu let out an exaggerated sigh of relief sinking back against the bathroom door with a hand over his heart. Sakusa rolled his eyes again, returning to his cup of coffee.

Why did he even bother?

“If he was takin’ advantage of Tobio-kun, I’d kill ‘im.” Sakusa turned to see Atsumu’s gaze distant and cold, his voice steely. The veins in his arm stood out as he clenched his fist still in his pocket, and Sakusa suppressed any and all urge to swallow, turning away. 

_ Ah,  _ that was exactly why.

“That doesn’t seem to be a concern, Atsumu. Though Kiyoko-san would probably be comforted by your protection of her brother. Also, your fly is down.”

“Come  _ on,  _ Omi-kun. You never let me have my moment!”

Sakusa chuckled softly, tilting his head back to study the clouds drifting slowly across the sky. Then, a thought occurred to him. 

_ Why was Iwaizumi hiding a bakery from his best friend? _

* * *

Oikawa woke up with miniature demons bouncing up and down on his temples. He sat up slowly, eyes still fully shut and was unsurprised by the sudden rush of dizziness. He bit his lip, willing the nausea to go down.

Shit. Hangovers. _ He’d forgotten about hangovers. _

Though that was probably attributed to not getting properly sloshed in a while. Running a somewhat illicit organization did not give one much liberty to get blackout drunk on weekdays. Maybe that was one of the main benefits to this partnership; if he was ever unable to perform, he always had Sakkun to help.

Though, Sakkun didn’t seem like the type to cover for someone who got drunk in the middle of the week (except for Atsu-kun). 

There was only one real cure to a nasty hangover: strong coffee and a fresh bagel. It’s what Iwa-chan would ply him with in college after awfully large parties to get him to his morning classes. Oikawa’s main pride and joy was the ability to answer integral calculus questions on the spot while so hungover he was wearing sunglasses with the darkest tint possible. (Seriously, they were so dark that people would ask him if he needed help getting to and from places on the assumption that he was blind.)

Oikawa rolled out of bed with a groan before checking the time. Even the brightness of his own phone caused a wince, and Oikawa dug through his drawers immediately for a pair of sunglasses (though not quite as effective as his pair from college, they would do). He ran a hot shower, pulling out the first outfit he could find in his closet and tossing it onto the bed blindly. It couldn’t be too bad, right? At the very least it wasn’t quite at the top of his priorities at the moment. 

When he finally came down the stairs, head pounding, Oikawa discovered two deeply troubling facts.

One: he definitely didn’t have bagels. However, he really never had bagels? So that was less disheartening.

Two: he was out of coffee. Like, entirely out of coffee. No random shitty K-cups left in a junk drawer, no disgusting instant coffee at the back of the pantry, and sure as hell none of the premium roast he kept in the center of his island. Instead, there was a post-it note with Mattsun’s messy scrawl.

_ This might be a bit cruel and inhumane, but we’re definitely out of coffee and you always have backup coffee; so, I’m taking the coffee off your counter so Hiro doesn’t actually kill me in the morning (and as payment for being your designated driver).  _

Mattsun was dead. Sure, he was brilliant at his job and one of Oikawa’s oldest friends. It no longer mattered. Oikawa was going to put three rounds through his forehead before anyone could scream. Fuck Makki, Oikawa figured killing the love of his life was worth premium roast. 

Oikawa checked the time once more, recognizing that he no longer had the flexibility to get down to the grocery store for anything. He was left with a few options at this point.

One: Grab a ride to the MSBY building without coffee and hungover, make do with whatever shitty coffee Komori-kun usually chugs by the gallon, or drink no coffee at all. Be violently irritable, possibly kill people and incite a war, and maybe puke all over Sakkun’s conference table. Impact: Sakkun would kill him.

Two: Go to the grocery store and grab everything he needs, take the morning leisurely to combat his hangover and show up incredibly late. Impact: Sakkun would kill him.

Three: Take his chances with a cafe on the way to the briefing, halfway combat his hangover and show up mostly on time. Impact: Sakkun  _ might _ kill him.

Oikawa stood in place, tapping his foot slightly in impatience before finally throwing his hands up and grabbing everything he needed to leave. Option Three it was, then. After all, the goal was always to minimize the probability that Sakkun would kill you. The probability would never be completely zero (except for maybe Osamu-kun, and even that was only temporarily) but the goal was to try to keep it as close to zero as possible. 

Oikawa flagged down a cab, smiling at the cheerful looking cab driver who seemed to be withholding a laugh. 

“The MSBY building, please. And do you know any good places for a coffee and a bagel on the way there?”

* * *

Kageyama hated cashier duty. Not only was he not entirely sure how the cash register worked (he’d zoned out every time Kiyoko tried to explain it to him), he also just felt the undeniable pull to be elbow-deep in some sort of dough or batter. Most of the time, Kiyoko, Yachi, or Hinata would cover his shift up front because it wasn’t necessarily beneficial for them to have Kageyama up front either.

Because Kageyama wasn’t exactly the  _ best _ with customers. He was great with Ushijima, and obviously he was good with Sakusa and both Miya-san’s. He’d even warmed up to Komori-san and some of the other Jackals. Hinata even poked fun at how eager Kageyama was to come out front when Iwaizumi would stop in. 

But other people? People who hadn’t had time to warm up to the Kageyama Tobio charm?

Well…

“Good morning, welcome to our bakery. What can I get started for you.” Kageyama stifled a yawn into the back of his hand as the teenager in front of him shrunk back at his monotone greeting. When she finally decided on some sugary drink (Kageyama pawned that off to Yachi) and a cinnamon bun, Kageyama rang her up in a way that could only be described as  _ angry _ , as his battle with the cash register continued into another day.

If only Yachi hadn’t flat-out refused to be on cashier duty for one more shift. If only Kiyoko hadn’t taken the day off to go shopping with Osamu.

Kageyama yawned again. The morning shift had really barely begun, and his hands were already itching with a need to be dusted in flour. 

“~Yahoo!~” A voice singsonged in time with the bell above the front door ringing. Kageyama suppressed a groan, looking up.

“Good morning, welcome to our bakery. What can I get-”

Kageyama broke off, staring wide-eyed at the man who’d just entered the store. The very...eclectic...man who had just entered the store. 

Perhaps the very first rule of customer service is  _ never _ to insult the customer. Even if the customer has committed some egregious, sacrilegious act of treason,  _ never _ insult the customer. After all, you never know their circumstances. And Kageyama, for all his issues with customer service, knew not to insult the customer.

“What the  _ hell  _ are you wearing?”

The man stumbled to a stop while approaching the register, eyebrows disappearing into his swoopy brown bangs.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what are you wearing?”

Kageyama watched as the man looked down at himself, taking in the gray “I LOVE COFFEE” sweater paired with red and blue checkered shorts. He was wearing Crocs as footwear.  _ Crocs. _

“Admittedly not my finest moment...but it’s not that bad, right?” The man looked up at him, glasses slightly askew. See, anyone would take this opportunity to walk back their previous statement. Blame it on shock and awe, move forward with the transaction in a respectful manner. 

However, Kageyama Tobio was a proud student of the ‘egregious honesty’ school of thought.

“It’s very bad. It might be the worst outfit I’ve ever seen.” The other man squawked angrily, and Kageyama noticed the pale skin of his face blushing a nice pink color. It’s a shame the man would never know that his face was pretty when he blushed because he was clearly colorblind.

“Are you colorblind?” Kageyama asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“I am not- Why would- How  _ dare you _ ??” The man’s voice got higher and higher as he stammered through aborted complaints. Kageyama just looked back at him with a blank expression on his face. 

“I would like a caramel latte and a bagel, please. And then I’d like to never see you again!” the man yelled, slamming a twenty down near the cash register. 

“I kind of wish I never saw you the first time, but one caramel latte and one bagel for…?” The man squawked in anger one more time, before he fully pulled his sunglasses off his face. 

“For Oikawa Tooru.” The man (Oikawa-san, apparently) said it like one would utter a mic drop. 

Kageyama cocked his head to the side in confusion. He had no idea who the hell that was. 

“One caramel latte and one bagel for an Oikawa Tooru. He might be colorblind so don’t waste the pretty coffee sleeves, Hitoka-chan.” The second part of that sentence was said in a shitty aside that Oikawa could hear loud and clear. 

“Can I please speak to someone who isn’t this person?” Oikawa yelled, practically breathless at this point. 

“You can speak to me!!” Kageyama rolled his eyes as Hinata came barreling out of the kitchen, practically an orange blur. Like this was going to go much better. 

“Oh, hi Chibi-chan!” The man smiled widely at Hinata, and Kageyama fought the urge to laugh. Like anyone had ever gotten anywhere with Hinata by calling him  _ short. _ Kageyama still had some bite mark scars on his forearm from that past exchange with Hinata. 

“Who are you calling  _ Chibi- _ whoa.” Hinata slid to a stop, bracing himself on the counter. His complaint withered away when he took in Oikawa-san, and Kageyama tried to suppress a superior grin. 

Hinata bit his lip, slamming a hand against the counter as he tried to control his face. At least Hinata had tried, Kageyama reasoned. He himself hadn’t done much. But Hinata’s ‘trying’ wasn’t too successful. He finally led out a wild giggle and squeaked out:

“ _ Why are you dressed like that? _ ”

Kageyama watched Oikawa-san turn red then purple and finally bury his face in his hands. Hinata was laughing raucously behind him, and Yachi’s composure was close to breaking as she packed a bagel into a to-go bag. 

“I just wanted a cup of coffee, and a bagel.” Oikawa sounded like he was about to cry. For a second, the entire bakery was quiet, and Hinata and Yachi leaned forward, about to apologize to their customer when Kageyama interrupted:

“Are those swim shorts?”

Hinata lost it again, and Yachi turned toward the wall and let out a squeak of laughter. Kageyama wasn’t entirely sure what was quite so funny, since the pants had the Speedo logo on the side. He wasn’t wrong. 

In the meantime, Oikawa physically staggered under the weight of that mortal blow. 

“I have never been so viciously attacked by a man in a poofy white hat before,” he muttered. 

“It’s called-”

“A  _ toque,  _ or a  _ toque-blanche _ .” Oikawa commented. “I know. Can I please just have my-”

“Oh, you know what, Oikawa-san? My cousin, Kiyoko, she usually keeps a change of clothes in her office. Anything would be better than this, right?” Kageyama offered an encouraging smile. He figured it was good compensation for the fact that Oikawa knew what his hat was called. No one knew what his hat was called. 

“What I wouldn’t give to not have left my gun at home,” Oikawa muttered carelessly. In an instant, Yachi and Hinata (who were laughing) froze. Kageyama remained unfazed. 

“For me! For me! To put me out of my own misery! Not for you! I didn’t threaten to kill three Jackals territory bakers! That’s not what I just did!” Kageyama quirked a smile at his seemingly unending panic now, and Yachi and Hinata remained frozen. 

“ _ Who the hell are you and why did you just threaten these- _ ” A familiar gruff voice sounded behind Oikawa, who whipped around.

“Iwa-chan?”

“ _ OIKAWA?" _

“Hi Iwaizumi-san. What can I get for you.”

Even in his confusion, Iwaizumi shot a warm smile at Kageyama. “Hi, Tobio. My usual.”

Then Iwaizumi and Oikawa were back to staring at each other. Kageyama counted to three in his head, before:

“You’re  _ dating _ Frowny-kun?!”

“What the hell are you  _ wearing _ ?!”

Surprisingly enough, Kageyama quite liked cashier duty today. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my break is over so I am definitely going to get less writing time. BUT I will finish this fic if it kills me because my beta will actually legitimately kill me if I don't finish it. 
> 
> It is considerably longer than I was expecting? But I like it. 
> 
> As always, thank you all for everything, comments are basically my favorite thing in the entire world and I try to respond to as many beautiful comments as I can. 
> 
> Also you might hear about a massive crisis I've been having in the notes of future chapters because highkey I use y'all as my diary sooooo keep an eye out.


	3. of tall boys and shortbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa Tooru's awful, painful, terrible day.
> 
> Except it might have been none of that. 
> 
> It might have just been the warm smell of shortbread, clutched in his hands. The gaze on him, riveting and so very unsure.
> 
> It might have just been a blueberry darling, with a rosy flush sitting high on his cheekbones. 
> 
> For no day with Kageyama Tobio could be quite that bad, at least for Oikawa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I've literally been procrastinating posting this chapter for no reason. Anyway, have Oikawa killing it in a skirt and then killing it in a suit bc I have to make up for the Speedo. Also, have Iwaizumi's reasoning for keeping the bakery away from Oikawa- you might think it's completely ludicrous but rest assured, he called it. And on that vein, have the first hint of oikage affection.
> 
> Have a healthy scoop of Sakusa POV, and Sakuatsu fluff bc I'm pathetic. 
> 
> Finally, have some more Mattsun, bc I am weak for Oikawa-Mattsun friendship. 
> 
> Also boba. Have some boba.

_The following are the events of the morning meeting Oikawa was woefully, dangerously late to._

“If he got to sleep in, I shoulda gotten to sleep in too, Omi-kun,” Atsumu whined, nursing a tall boba tea (mango-peach, because it was just happy enough to get Atsumu in a good mood without pissing him off when he had a hangover).

(Yes, Atsumu got mad at things that were ‘too happy’ when he was hungover.)

(Yes, the true miracle of the boba was likely the sugar.)

Sakusa sighed, suppressing the urge to slide down in his chair until his head thumped onto the table. He loved Atsumu, but Atsumu seriously needed to _shut up._

“Shut up, ‘Tsumu. Yer pissing off the love of yer life.”

Ah yes, thank every god that existed for Osamu, who was flipping through a folder while spinning silently in his chair. Not too much more mature, but at least it was a silent activity. 

“Thank you, Osamu. Please shut up, Atsumu.” Atsumu pouted, and Sakusa rolled his eyes. Atsumu’s pout didn’t quite work on him anymore, not who-knows-how-many years into their relationship.

...Still, Sakusa reached under the table to seize Atsumu’s hand, curling their fingers together. With his other hand, he plucked the boba tea from Atsumu’s grasp, pulling a fresh straw from his pocket to take a sip. Atsumu, as always, told him he could use the same straw, to which Sakusa wrinkled his nose. 

Iwaizumi fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, entirely silent. Sakusa shot him a look every once in a while; they weren’t strangers to one another, but somehow without Oikawa it seemed almost impossible for them to interact. Iwaizumi turned to face Sakusa, opening his mouth to speak before apparently thinking better of it, turning away. 

Apparently neither Miya twin was going to be helpful in this situation. Osamu really barely knew Iwaizumi, and he was furiously texting now (Kiyoko was probably yelling at him about being late; they were going shopping today). Atsumu was apparently very busy with his boba, squeezing Sakusa’s hand periodically but otherwise doing nothing to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation like he normally did. 

Apparently the responsibility was on Sakusa now. He let out the smallest groan out loud, something that went thankfully ignored.

Iwaizumi turned to look at him again, this time even raising his hand in a gesture when he opened his mouth but he bailed out of the endeavor at the last moment again. Sakusa, however, did not. 

That didn’t mean he handled it particularly well either.

“Why are you hiding Kageyama-kun and the bakery from Oikawa?”

It felt like all the motion in the room stopped. Osamu looked up sharply, dropping his phone onto the table with a clang. Atsumu stopped slurping boba through the straw. Even Iwaizumi froze, his mouth hanging halfway open. 

“You know Tobio-kun?” This question was from Osamu, who seemed to be unsure as to whether he should be suspicious of this new information or use it as bonding material. 

“Yeah, I do. I met them during one of the earlier ventures we had into Jackal territory. Hitoka-chan threw a muffin at my face and Tobio and Shouyou had a laughing fit.”

“That was _you_?” Osamu’s suspicious look gave way to an amused grin. “I thought Kiyoko was gonna blow a _gasket_ , she was so angry. Hitoka-chan only survived ‘cause she’s Hitoka-chan.”

Iwaizumi smiled back at Osamu. “She’s got a strong arm, I was a little concerned it would bruise.” 

“Wait. Can we go back to where Iwaizumi is hiding them all from Oikawa? What possible could ya have for that? Is he gluten sensitive or somethin’?” Atsumu had finally injected himself into the conversation, nosiness never one to be suppressed for long. 

“No, not exactly.” Iwaizumi looked away, a vein in his jaw pulsing. All three Jackals in the room leaned forward (Sakusa was more subtle about it, but Atsumu was about hanging out of his chair by now). Iwaizumi looked back at them and groaned, shooting a look out the door into the corridor. 

“Okay, you all better be able to keep a secret,” he mumbled, shifting forward in his chair conspiratorially. Both Atsumu and Osamu saluted in response simultaneously, before looking at each other in disgust. Sakusa just nodded. 

“First of all, Shittykawa is an agent of chaos that I like to keep away from most things unless deeply necessary.” To this, all three Jackals nodded and Sakusa mumbled, “I wish that worked with Atsumu.” Then a brief intermission was taken for Atsumu to complain and Osamu to flick him in response, all while a vein throbbed in Sakusa’s forehead. 

“The other issue is one of a more sensitive nature,” Iwaizumi started. Sakusa watched his forehead crease with worry, and guessed Iwaizumi was blatantly concerned as to whether he could trust the people who were his rivals just months before. They weren’t exactly friends.

Except, they kinda were, weren’t they?

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. “Not a _word_ to Oikawa or anyone else.” All three Jackals nodded, and Sakusa couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of some good emotion that Iwaizumi apparently did trust them. 

“Based on nothing at all, I am fully certain Kageyama is exactly Oikawa’s type.”

The statement hung in the air for a couple seconds before each letter fell to the table not unlike a severed icicle, pleasant tinkling sounds following in its wake. 

Sakusa, Atsumu, and Osamu all narrowed their eyes. Iwaizumi bit his lip as the three processed a host of varying lines of reasoning. 

  1. They were all very protective of Kageyama Tobio.
  2. For better or for worse, they all liked Oikawa Tooru.
  3. On what planet was Kageyama Tobio Oikawa Tooru’s type?
  4. On what planet would Oikawa Tooru ever have a chance with Kageyama Tobio?
  5. …???? (A physical manifestation of sheer confusion).



“But, Tobio-kun is pastry-sexual,” Atsumu finally said. 

“What?” Iwaizumi asked incredulously, scrunching his face into an expression of surprise. 

“Nothing, nothing.” The conference room was bathed in silence again. 

“I have so many questions,” Osamu finally began. “But the prevailing one is, _what the fuck?_ ”

Sakusa and Atsumu tried to withhold a laugh, and only failed slightly. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened in what can only be described as a deranged manner. 

“No, you all don’t understand. I _actively_ must work to prevent Oikawa from meeting men he could be interested in.” Even Sakusa felt the need to scoot backward in his chair to escape the manic gleam in Iwaizumi’s eyes. “You think he’s ridiculous now? This piece of shit has never met a problem he couldn’t solve with a singleminded purpose. No, he’s not a weird creepy stalker, but if he falls for someone he will make it _everyone’s problem._ Next thing you know, the combined resources of our two organizations would be going into wooing Kageyama. And you know the worst part? _Kageyama would not notice. So we would all waste weeks of our life, at_ least _, in a bullshit wild goose chase._ ”

Iwaizumi slumped down in his chair, smushing his face into the conference table. Sakusa fully regretted ever bringing up this topic of conversation.

“...He’s right, ya know. Tobio would never notice if Oikawa-san was flirting with him. He’d barely notice some big romantic gesture.” Iwaizumi gave a weary look of gratitude to Osamu, who had a thoughtful look on his face. 

“It would be kinda fun though, wouldn’t it Omi-kun?” Atsumu returned to slurping down boba, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Absolutely not, Atsumu. I’m more curious as to why you think Kageyama-kun would be Oikawa’s type.” Sakusa wished he could take back that statement the moment he said it; even Osamu and Atsumu seemed surprised that Sakusa had admitted to being curious about someone’s personal life. 

Iwaizumi let out another weary sigh. “I just- I have this vibe. I just think Oikawa could possibly fall head over heels for him like a fucking buffoon, and Tobio wouldn’t really even notice.” His voice dropped, as he looked down at the table. “A part of me is protecting my best friend too, you know.”

The tender atmosphere lasted about ten seconds before Iwaizumi shattered it, continuing:

“But, I’m mostly protecting myself from whatever dumbass fuckery Shittykawa would force into motion.”

Sakusa quirked another smile, and Atsumu snorted slightly, choking on his boba tea. Osamu reached out to thump his brother on the back vigorously. Iwaizumi scratched the side of his head. Awkwardness had yet again permeated what seemed to be a very changeable environment. 

“...Do you think I could go grab a muffin, since Oikawa isn’t here yet?” Iwaizumi finally asked, turning to Sakusa. Sakusa leveled a glare at him, flicking his gaze at his watch when Iwaizumi didn’t back down. 

“...Fine, but only if you grab me something too,” Sakusa finally acquiesced. Iwaizumi pumped his fist automatically before catching himself, blooming red and running his hand through his spiky hair. It didn’t take long for him to sprint out of the room, ignoring Atsumu’s calls for various pastries. 

Sakusa stretched out, tilting his head onto the back of his chair. At least by the time both of them got here, they could actually talk business. The last thing he caught sight of was Osamu sneaking out of the room (he was already late to his ‘shopping day’ and Sakusa knew Kiyoko was likely angry. He decided he’d just fill Osamu in later). Then, he let out a soft yawn and curled up in the chair, drifting off to sleep. 

* * *

Sakusa was roughly shaken awake in what felt like barely five minutes. By instinct, he reached to flip whoever was shaking him onto the table, looking to pin their arm behind their back. Vaguely, he registered that the man had moved out of reach, likely anticipating it. 

“Stop trying to kill me, Sakusa! We have bigger problems,” the voice hissed, sounding oddly like Iwaizumi.

Probably because it _was_ Iwaizumi. Huh. Sakusa holstered his gun (which he’d reached for on autopilot), blinking his eyes open blearily. Scanning the room, he saw that Atsumu was getting a similar treatment, being roughly shaken awake by Iwaizumi. 

_What the hell?_

“I was too late,” Iwaizumi said, a grave note of urgency in his voice. “I didn’t account for everything, and I was too late. And please, dear god, no one comment on the skirt.”

And with that, he slid into his chair, countenance shifting to his ordinary grumpy-bored look, and he turned towards the door.

In walked Oikawa Tooru, wearing a fashionable burgundy blouse, pencil skirt, and a blazer. Sakusa automatically reached for Atsumu’s hand, digging his nails into Atsumu’s wrist to keep him from laughing.

“Good morning, Oikawa. You’re late.” _And crossdressing,_ Sakusa added silently. 

“Don’t I make this work, Sakkun?” Oikawa strutted forward, pivoting to show off his ass. Atsumu let out of a high pitched whine, screwing his eyes shut. Sakusa was sure his nails were drawing blood.

“Impeccably. Can we please talk about the information Atsumu got off the target in the field? We are already incredibly late,” Sakusa deadpanned professionally. Before Oikawa could respond, however, _someone_ lost their grip on their self control.

 _“Can we talk about what the fuck yer wearin’, Oikawa?!”_ Atsumu burst out, with an accompanying laugh like a hyena. Oikawa pouted looking towards Iwaizumi in askance. Iwaizumi looked preoccupied, raising both hands in a ‘do whatever the fuck you want’ gesture. 

“I’m wearing these clothes that maintain a somewhat feminine air-”

“- _yer wearing a skirt_ -”

“ _Gender is just a construct, Atsu-kun! Stop being homophobic!_ ”

“ _I’m gay!”_

“We have bigger problems!” Oikawa finally interjected. “Iwa-chan is dating that demon working at that hellish bakery with the _amazing_ bagels.”

“Iwa-kun, yer datin’ Shouyou?” Atsumu asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“No, he’s talking about Tobio,” Iwaizumi said wearily, before his head shot up in awareness. “I’m not actually dating Tobio! He just thinks I’m dating Tobio.” Atsumu eyed him cautiously before simmering down. 

“Hey, wait a _damn_ minute. Tobio-kun is definitely a demon, but he’s also great!” Sakusa nodded unconsciously before he realized what he was agreeing to, and looked away to cover up the red flush of his cheeks.

“Great? That boy is a _terror_ . He is so incredibly rude; he called me colorblind twice! And then, he gave me his cousin’s clothes to wear, which, by the way, is why I’m wearing _a skirt._ ” By the time Oikawa was finished talking, he was panting. 

“Wait, and you took it? How bad could your previous outfit have been?” Sakusa finally asked. 

Oikawa bloomed red to the tips of his ears, cursing under his breath. “I was hungover, it was a mistake.”

“What was a mistake?”

“I was not supposed to wear swim shorts to a high-level meeting.” Atsumu burst out laughing, but Sakusa fought to keep a steady gaze. “You also aren’t supposed to wear a skirt to a high-level meeting, but that ship has apparently sailed.”

“You can’t deny I pull this off, Sakkun.” Sakusa’s lips twitched, but he simply rolled his eyes. 

“So, at least you’ll never have to see Tobio ever again,” Iwaizumi began conversationally. “You can just give Kiyoko-san’s clothes to _me_ , I’ll take them back, and then you’ll never have to interact with him ever again. How does that sound?”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan sounds really suspicious right now, don’t you think Sakkun?” Sakusa grunted noncommittally, though he agreed with Oikawa. “I’m not fully convinced he’s not your boyfriend.”

“I’m just making your life better, Tooru,” Iwaizumi tried. Oikawa snorted, before waving his coffee cup at the three of them and hardening his gaze.

“I’ll tell you what will make my life better: dressing up in the nicest suit I own when I return these clothes to that brat, just so he can see how wrong he was. Then proving him wrong every single day while I eat more and more of these _fantastic_ bagels.” His plan wasn’t the most sinister, but the look in his eyes was concentrated. It was clear Oikawa was singleminded, focused-

_Oh shit._

The sleep finally cleared from Sakusa’s mind, and he exchanged a horrified look with both Iwaizumi and Atsumu (well, Atsumu looked more entertained than anything else). 

_They were too late._

“Well then, let the games begin,” Atsumu commented, tossing his boba cup with one hand into a trash can 30 feet away. Sakusa suppressed the urge to groan as Oikawa’s stare only went steelier, his mind clearly on Kageyama. Granted, he was probably fantasizing about killing him right now but-

Sakusa knew firsthand how quickly a seething hatred could become attraction. His gaze flicked to Atsumu, who was looking back at him with a soft smile. 

_Let the games begin indeed._

* * *

_Komori-kun was a lifesaver._

Oikawa spent the entire morning meeting in Kiyoko-san’s clothing (Atsumu had taken a picture and forwarded it to Osamu, who had shown Kiyoko. According to Atsumu, she was terribly amused). But once it became clear that the entire day would be spent in the MSBY building, Oikawa realized he wouldn’t be able to go home and change. 

Faced with the possibility of spending the entire day in a skirt, Oikawa finally caved. When Iwaizumi, Sakusa, and Atsumu went down the hall to talk to another operative, Oikawa snuck away to change. 

Only problem was, he didn’t actually have a change of clothes. Even his Speedo was back at the bakery, not that he was really considering changing back into it.

“Oikawa-san? Why are you wearing a skirt?” Komori poked a head into the closet Oikawa was rifling through. The entire room was filled with extreme weather gear. Why would the entire room be filled with extreme weather gear?

“Sakusa and Atsumu-san went on a bout of extreme couponing last year,” Komori muttered. That was clearly a euphemism for something, but Oikawa didn’t really care. What he cared about was finding _normal clothes._

“Thank the lord, Komori-kun. Do you know where I could find a change of clothes?” Oikawa put on his most beseeching look, making puppy-dog eyes at Komori. Komori just laughed, turning away.

“Follow me, Oikawa-san.”

 _Again, bless Komori-kun._ Because not only did he get Oikawa out of his skirt, he also loaned Oikawa a navy blue suit with a vest that fit like it was tailored for him. When Oikawa had shaken out his hair in the mirror, his chocolate curls bouncing into place naturally, even he couldn't keep the appreciative smirk off of his face. He knew he was a knockout but, this was a whole new level. He couldn't stop from checking himself out in any reflection he could find, until Iwaizumi smacked him in the back of the head and told him he looked like a monkey in a bar mitzvah suit. That had shut Oikawa right up. 

And so the day passed in relative tranquility, Sakusa and Iwaizumi managing to keep the peace even though Atsumu insisted on needling Oikawa about Kageyama, the skirt, or Kageyama _and_ the skirt every passing minute. Oikawa (for the first time in his life) kept a level head, though; after all, he had a plan for retribution. 

Oikawa finally got up and stretched, eyes flicking towards the window. The MSBY building was well-loved by most all for the way its windows maximized natural light; looking out through the windows right now, Oikawa could see the sky smudged magenta, going deep violet at the edges. He closed his eyes, allowing the golden light of the sunset to wash over him. It’d been a long day of poring over personnel files; still, even for their combined power, it was important to discern who posed a threat to them. 

Not that they had. Three hours of reading later, and neither Oikawa nor Sakusa had turned up any paper leads. Iwaizumi and Atsumu had gone looking for physical leads; they returned exhausted, with none of the excitement of discovery painted on their faces. Instead, Atsumu’s cheekbone had a splatter of blood on it; Oikawa had seen Sakusa’s eyes narrow, even as he maintained an impartial air of distance.

All of that had been wiped away by the sinking sun. Atsumu and Sakusa were curled up together on a side couch, each scanning their own dossiers in silence. Atsumu’s head was resting on Sakusa’s lap, and Sakusa absentmindedly carded his fingers through Atsumu’s blond locks as he held the pages in his other hand. Oikawa and Iwaizumi sat across from one another at the table; their ability to exchange thoughts almost silently came in quite handy to prevent disturbing the comfortable environment in the room. As Oikawa reflected on just that, Iwaizumi yanked his sleeve to point something out, looking at him with a characteristically snarky look in his eyes.

Oikawa almost let out a surprised laugh at how he could even hear Iwaizumi calling him ‘Shittykawa’ in a silent exchange. Oikawa flagged the page before flipping past it, feeling oddly grateful for the people he had in his life. Iwa-chan had been the best friend he could have asked for, not to mention the best partner to watch his 6. The Jackals had been the best organization to ally with; even with Atsumu being an asshole at all times, and Sakusa feigning apathy and disinterest in everyone around him.

Oikawa was rarely this grateful. It made him a little sick. 

He turned to look at Iwaizumi, a sick feeling curling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should leave Iwaizumi’s demon-child alone. He didn’t know if that was his boyfriend, his brother, his friend- it didn’t really matter. Maybe he should just have enough compassion and respect for Iwaizumi to let what Kageyama did slide.

...Fat fucking chance. Oikawa had been looking forward to the opportunity to rub Kageyama’s nose in it _all day_ , Iwa-chan be damned. 

“Well, I have to get going,” he began conversationally, grouping stacks of paper together on the table. At the last moment, he pulled the page Iwaizumi flagged from the pile, folding it up and tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll just say goodbye now, so you lovebirds don’t have to see me to the door.” 

Sakusa was, as usual, unreactive. He looked up and nodded at Oikawa shortly before returning to his activities. Atsumu shot him the middle finger, but turned it into a slight wave at the last second.

“...Where are you going?” Iwaizumi asked just as Oikawa was about to step out of the room. 

“Home, Iwa-chan! Where else would I go? I’m not the one who was hiding a warm, comfy, pastry shop full of demon children that I frequent in an after-work capacity.” Iwaizumi flinched slightly at the very pointed remark, looking down. “I’m not going to mess with your precious Tobio-chan,” Oikawa finally said, lying through his teeth.

When Oikawa had finally made it to the end of the floor, bidding Komori a cheerful goodbye, Iwaizumi finally sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face. 

“Ya know, Oikawa is totally gonna mess with Tobio-kun,” Atsumu mentioned, forcing Iwaizumi to sit up.

“It’s a foregone conclusion,” Sakusa seconded. 

“Why didn’t any of you mention that when he was here?! You were so concerned when you thought I might mess with Kageyama!” Iwaizumi shouted, slightly frazzled.

“‘Cause Tobio-kun could totally have a crush on ya. It’s a compliment, Iwa-kun. We’re both okay with Oikawa messin’ with Tobio-kun, ‘cause Tobio would eat him alive. Oikawa doesn’t really stand a chance, ya know?” 

“Exactly,” Sakusa seconded again. “So we don’t care as much. Worst case scenario, Osamu or Kiyoko kill Oikawa, inciting a mafia war like we’ve never seen before where every single one of us dies.”

Sakusa looked up from the sheet he was scanning to look eyes with Iwaizumi, eerily serious.

“I welcome the sweet release of death. No more paperwork.”

It wasn’t quite clear whether it was the deadpan delivery of the line or the addition of paperwork, but Iwaizumi and Atsumu burst out laughing. In a rare but treasured turn of events, Sakusa smirked, before returning to the work at hand. 

* * *

It was purely luck that Kageyama was out front when Oikawa showed up again.

Whether that luck was good or bad, Kageyama couldn’t quite say. 

Yachi was supposed to be covering the front at the end of the day, but she had planned a dinner with some of her friends that had moved up earlier. She’d begged Kageyama to cover the front for just the last 45 minutes before closing, and he’d agreed readily. Regardless of how much he hated register duty, he had a bit of a soft spot for Yachi. 

Hinata was, as always, messing around in the kitchen. He had his headphones in, and was throwing things into a pot with wild flourishes and sound effects. Kageyama had grown used to it in the past months; as unbelievable as it may be, he believed strongly in the sound-effect theory as well. Pastries just tasted better with a bit of _whoosh_. He wasn’t quite as reckless about it as Hinata, but he could still appreciate the idea. 

Of course, if whatever he made tasted like shit, Kageyama was going to lord it over him until kingdom come. 

The bell jingled, signalling the entrance of a new customer. Kageyama resisted the urge to groan; not that many people came in near closing time; Ushijima-san and Sakusa-san were notable exceptions, though Kageyama didn’t mind when they came in. 

When he looked up though, his mouth went a little dry. It was Oikawa-san, he recognized that off the bat (his hair was quite distinctive). But this Oikawa-san looked _nothing_ like the Oikawa-san from the morning. He moved with a distinct sureness, a mischievous smirk on his face and an intense look in his eyes.

Kageyama suppressed the urge to shudder.

No one had ever accused Kageyama of subtlety, so he wasn’t at all subtle as he scanned Oikawa-san up and down. The _suit,_ holy shit. Kageyama felt his cheeks redden, and he looked away quickly. He supposed Oikawa-san wasn’t quite colorblind after all; no one who was colorblind could pick a navy blue that stood out against his porcelain skin just so. 

_What the hell._

Kageyama’s eyes widened, head still turned to stare at the white and black tiles of the floor. He had no idea where the last ten seconds had come from. He didn’t think he’d ever had those specific thoughts _ever._

“Oi, Tobio-chan.” An impatient voice cut through his panic, and he felt more than heard Oikawa-san’s snaps near his ear. “Are you counting the floor tiles?”

“N-no, Oikawa-san.” Kageyama’s mouth was still dry, and he was stumbling over his words. How embarrassing. 

“I came to bring your cousin’s clothes, Tobio-chan. As you can see, I don’t need them anymore.” Oikawa-san then spun in a slow pirouette, showing off the suit. Kageyama kept a blank expression on his face, hoping Oikawa-san couldn’t decipher the pink on his cheeks. 

“Yes, I see that, Oikawa-san.” Oikawa-san looked at him through narrowed eyes, cocking his head to the side in skepticism. Kageyama stood very still as he was appraised, though he supposed he couldn’t quite move anyway. His feet had become glued to the floor when Oikawa-san first walked in. 

“Here, take them.” Oikawa brought a plastic bag up to eye level, swinging it back and forth until it lightly bumped against Kageyama’s forehead. Kageyama scrunched his nose, and the bag stopped moving. Kageyama chanced a look at Oikawa-san to see his eyes slightly unfocused, staring at Kageyama unblinkingly. 

The trance between the two of them was broken by the sound of clattering from the kitchen, and Kageyama took a step backward, feeling odd. Oikawa-san shifted his weight, still holding the plastic bag aloft. The two stood in awkward silence for a second, before they both began to speak at the same time.

“Oikawa-san-”

“Tobio-chan-” 

Kageyama fell silent at his name, turning his back to fetch what he was looking for. He opened up the warmer, reaching to the back for a specially-packaged item. 

“Tobio-chan, I hope you can see that you were clearly wrong this morning. Not only is it illogical for someone who dresses like _you_ to insult _anyone_ , I’ve clearly proven myself with this. I would like an official redaction, preferably in the most humiliating capacity for-”

Kageyama spun around, holding a to-go bag. Oikawa-san stared wide-eyed at it, his jaw going slack. In neat, printed handwriting, the bag read, ‘For Oikawa-san’ and was accompanied by a smiley-face drawn with a perfect circle and an immaculate curve for a smile. 

“I baked it. For you.”

Oikawa-san looked away, a vein in his jaw pulsing. His eyes were unrealistically wide now, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. Kageyama soldiered on. 

“Because of this morning. I-I thought you’d like it.”

The plastic bag with Kiyoko’s clothes was still swaying gently in the air. Oikawa-san was looking back at Kageyama now, his expression unreadable. Kageyama thrust the bag out towards him.

“It’s shortbread. Blueberry. Hinata helped. I-I asked him to help.” Kageyama said the last sentence in a whisper, looking down. Suddenly he felt indomitably shy. 

“Shit.” Kageyama looked up as the softly uttered word dropped from Oikawa-san’s lips. He could have been speaking in reference to the shortbread (Kageyama was sure it wasn’t shit) but something told Kageyama his swear had nothing to do with the quality of the shortbread. 

“Shit,” Oikawa-san said again, eyes wide and cheeks pink. He was looking at Kageyama strangely now, a combination of panic and endearment in his eyes. 

Then three things happened in quick succession: the plastic bag with Kiyoko’s clothes was dropped unceremoniously onto the counter, the warm bag of shortbread was yanked softly out of Kageyama’s hands, and before Kageyama could blink the bell had rung again, signalling Oikawa-san’s departure. 

Kageyama stood very still for a couple minutes, the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Something had just happened that he couldn’t explain at all. He really hated not being able to explain things. He could only hope now that whatever had just happened had been a good thing.

“Oi, Kageyama-kun! Why are you just standing there? It’s time to close!” Hinata’s shout pulled Kageyama out of his reverie. He rushed to the front of the shop, flipping the sign to a closed with an exhale of relief. 

* * *

Oikawa had never once been more thankful for how long his legs were. In barely a couple strides he was able to put enough distance between himself and the bakery so he could _think._

Fucking Tobio-chan. It was all his fault.

Also Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan could have warned him. _Anyone_ could have warned him that Tobio-chan would look at him like _that_ , blush sitting high on his cheekbones and lips twitching in shyness. 

He hated Kageyama Tobio. The problem was, he didn’t hate him quite the same way as he had in the morning. In all honesty, Oikawa had a hard time reconciling the boy from the morning with this person.

But Kageyama was about as off-limits as anyone could be. He was practically the brother of five men with guns, not counting him being the actual brother of the fiercest woman he’d never had the pleasure of meeting. One of those five men with guns was Iwa-chan, and Oikawa didn’t even want to unpack _that_ mess. 

Before he even consciously realized it, his phone was out and he was dialing Mattsun. Regardless of the grudge Oikawa was holding over the stolen coffee, Mattsun was his counsel. If he was losing it over anything, small or large, his first call was Mattsun or Makki. Makki had a harder time keeping his mouth shut though.

“Oi, Oikawa. I figured I’d get the silent treatment for the coffee thing but at least Hiro didn’t murder me first thing in the morning-”

“-I think I’m about to make a mistake.” Oikawa was surprised at how even his voice sounded.

“What type of mistake?” Mattsun’s voice was immediately steely, an undercurrent of urgency clear; sometimes, Oikawa forgot that he was the head of a prominent mafia organization and that pronouncements such as the one he made were concerning. 

“Nothing _bad_ , just bad.” Oikawa tried to vary his inflection so that Mattsun understood, but ended the sentence with an unsure lilt. It was a testament to both Mattsun’s patience and the longevity of their friendship that he understood immediately.

“Well, would the decision hurt you?”

“Invariably, undeniably, eventually.” Oikawa sighed then, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If you could tell how quickly I was getting ahead of myself, you’d hit me.”

“Probably. But you get ahead of yourself a lot. If you repeat this, I’ll get Iwaizumi to hit you, but, everything usually turns out better when you’re a bit impulsive.” Oikawa let out a small laugh, before going silent. 

“...Is this about someone? A guy?” Apparently Oikawa’s silence was answer enough. 

“Oh. Is he cute?”

“Surprisingly cute. Tall too.” Oikawa was blushing now, and he was incredibly thankful that Mattsun couldn’t see him. 

“Cool. Get yourself a man.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Mattsun!” Oikawa whined. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it is. That’s what everyone thinks. I would give you as many reasons as you need to follow your instinct with that cute boy but I’m pretty sure Makki is trying to seduce me with the whole ‘cheeto dust all over his finger, dumpster rat t-shirt’ thing he’s got going on.” Mattsun paused, and Oikawa could hear Makki’s outraged yell in the background, and he barked out a laugh.

“Trust yourself. We’ll always have your back.” Mattsun hung up on him, and Oikawa stood on the pavement motionless for a couple seconds. He tilted his head up to catch a glimpse of the night sky. 

There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t mess around with Kageyama Tobio. A thousand compelling, severe reasons. 

Yet, they were all overshadowed by Kageyama’s shy smile, sparkling eyes, and the warm shortbread in Oikawa’s hands. 

He was fucked. _So_ fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have been so sweet in supporting this fic, I read and try to respond to as many comments as I can. They truly make me incandescently happy, though writing this fic makes me insanely happy too, in its own way.
> 
> Anyway, my beta keeps very close tabs on y'all's comments, and loves it when my sole motivation to write oikage isn't just her nagging (loving, kind, wonderful nagging, but nagging nonetheless). 
> 
> My time to write might be a little cut short, but this fic is basically my first and only priority rn. As usual, love all of you, sending everyone the best vibes I have, and stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who was hoping that I'd write more oikage after that single oneshot from months ago (this demographic probably doesn't exist) thank @queentheband. They finally talked me into it. 
> 
> Don't worry, Oikawa will be here soon. Whenever I plan and write the second chapter of this fic. Wish me luck, y'all. 
> 
> Also comments are always appreciated! I try to reply to as many of them as possible! Though, knowing my beta, if you comment something pro-oikage, they'll literally respond before me with bounding enthusiasm. Like a laborador retriever.


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